Champion of Agni
by the melon lord 2.0
Summary: Aang almost kills Zuko during their first encounter at the South Pole, and the prince finds himself struggling to come to terms with peculiarities surrounding his unlikely survival. As he learns to accept his circumstances, Zuko is given the chance to see the world from a heartbreaking new perspective that changes everything... Heavy Blue Spirit, but with a twist.
1. The Catalyst

**Champion of Agni**

Disclaimer: I ran into Mike and Bryan the other day and bought Avatar from them. This is all mine, and I intend to eventually publish this story and grow filthy rich from it... Aaaand anyone who believed that is gullible enough to deserve punishment and shall be subjected to an Earth Rumble match with Toph.

Summary: When Aang goes into the Avatar state and throws Zuko off their ship during their first encounter, Zuko falls into the ocean instead of clinging to the side of the ship. He manages to survive the ordeal through the intervention of a mysterious force, but whatever saved his life also _changed him._Capturing the Avatar becomes the least of Zuko's worries as a different way of bending also pushes him into a different way of thinking.

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**Ch.1: The Catalyst **

_NO. _

Zuko's heart dropped into his stomach as the monk pitched backwards off his ship. _Why_ was he such an idiot? He'd seen the boy pressed against the railing, had even thought for a moment that maybe he should give the Avatar room to move forward. But his rage had gotten the better of him. He'd been too furious at having been betrayed, at having his blind trust taking advantage of by a stupid kid-

And now that _kid _was drowning, dying because of him.

Of course, that wasn't the problem. Zuko was smarter than that, too smart to care about something stupid like the boy's life, but his father's orders had been clear. Find the Avatar and bring him back to the Fire Nation _alive. _And Zuko had sent the boy plummeting into the freezing polar waters instead. He'd lived on a ship for years, knew exactly how perilous that was. There was no way the Avatar would survive even if Zuko were to dive in after him, something he honestly considered for a very long moment.

The Avatar- Zuko had killed the Avatar, would have to start searching for the next in the cycle, and…

And he'd been a _kid_. A child. A boy. A lying boy, a boy with no sense of honor, who'd _promised _to come quietly and then tried to escape as soon as he was on board the ship, but he couldn't have been older than twelve, and… and-

-and Zuko hadn't wanted to _kill him_. Just to capture him.

No. He hadn't even wanted that, but it had been necessary for the good of the Fire Nation. Had been necessary for the revocation of his banishment. He'd only wanted to go home, and now a boy was dead and with his luck, the new Avatar would reappear in the Northern Water Tribe and be all but untouchable. Almost three years, and his first hope of going home had gone up in smoke with an act of murder.

_I just killed a kid. I killed a kid. I- _

His thoughts screeched to a halt at the sight of a spiraling column of water arching out of the ocean. For a moment there was relief- _He's the Avatar. Of course he wouldn't die so easily- _but then he could feel nothing but raw fear because the torrent of water must have been a hundred feet high, and the monk was _riding it_. The Avatar's eyes glowed terrifying blue, and the expression on his face was one of _power _such that Zuko had never seen. It was like his Agni Kai all over again- he felt so small and weak and helpless in the face of something so much stronger than he could ever possibly hope to fight.

With an eerie grace and precision, the Avatar landed on deck and elegantly worked the water around him as though it were a long, flowing ribbon. Zuko stared in awe, too shocked to move, and before he could entirely comprehend what was happening, the water lashed out like a whip. He had just enough time to resolve to keep his feet down before he was thrown through the air, back, back, and-

-_my ship isn't this big_.

He realized he was falling _too late_. Instinct prompted him to grab for the side of his ship, but his fingers only just barely brushed the cool metal before falling away. As that last hope slipped from his grasp, Zuko started to panic. He remembered hearing somewhere that some firebenders could propel themselves forward with their flames, and he attempted to do so in a ridiculous last-ditch effort to survive. His fire spluttered around him, slowing his descent for just a moment before it fizzled out completely. He desperately attempted to think of something else, to come up with a crazy plan that might keep him from drowning, but then his back slammed into a wall of icy cold and his wits scattered.

The water was _freezing_- even to a firebender- and deep, rushing up around him on all sides. Zuko flailed and struggled, tried to slow himself down, but his body refused to do anything but sink. Too late he remembered his stupid, ridiculous armor, but when he moved to take it off, his arms were stiff and his fingers numb. He tried, tried over and over, but he couldn't manage the single stupid task, and it grew harder and harder to focus as time passed. Black spots dotted his vision and his lungs burned and all feeling slowly drained from his body.

How could he have almost felt sorry for almost killing the Avatar? It was obvious the child had no compunctions about doing the same to him.

Except he _wouldn't_ die, wouldn't give the boy such satisfaction. If he could just get his armor off, if he could work his way out of it, he would have a chance, would maybe be able to force his way to the surface. He'd have to hurry though; he was too far underwater to feel Agni's warmth inside him anymore, too deep to feel any warmth at all. Everything was dark and cold and so damn lonely, and… and he was going to die down there. Alone, killed as the result of the most recent of his long string of failures.

It wasn't fair. So much time searching, and finally, finally his ticket home had been within reach and… and now he was going to die. He didn't want to die. He wanted his father to tell him he loved him first, wanted a hug from Azula and he wanted to let Uncle know how much he appreciated having him on his ship these past years. He wanted to… he wanted to make something of himself, to become someone honorable and respectable. To grow stronger so that his life was actually _worth something _when he lost it. So that people would care when he was gone.

Dammit! What he wouldn't do for _a little more time_.He wasn't ready to die yet. He couldn't just drown, couldn't let it end like this, alone and cold and so far away from the comforting sunlight.

He refused to let it happen.

Giving up on his armor, Zuko raised a weary arm and tried forcing himself upward.

It didn't work.

_No_.

He raised his other arm. He'd been at sea for almost three years. He was a very good swimmer. Just had to go up. That wasn't so difficult.

Except it was. His body refused to move. The black spots had all but taken over his vision.

His lungs screamed in agony.

_I refuse to die like this. _

He tried again. Shouted at himself mentally. Tried and failed to make his eyes focus.

_I will not die. _

Another attempt at swimming. A hand twitched weakly.

_I don't want to die. _

He kicked. Threw his whole body into it. Nothing.

_I'm scared. _

He gritted his teeth and tried for another, stronger kick.

_Never give up without a fight. _

His body still wouldn't move. Couldn't move. And dammit his lungs hurt and his vision was going blurry and he couldn't think and-

_Agni, help me. If you care at all Agni, please help me. _

His vision went completely black. Then, just before his consciousness faded completely: "Very well, child. With my blessing, you shall live."

And with that, he drifted into nothingness.

…

Iroh wandered onto the deck just in time to see the Avatar taking off on his flying bison. A small part of him was relieved, for as much as he loved his nephew, he truly did not wish to see the world's last hope against the Fire Nation captured so soon after he reappeared. His frown, however, was genuine, as he knew how upset Zuko would be over this development. He was rather regretful that he had chosen such an inopportune time to take a nap; perhaps this could have been handled more delicately had he been awake.

No matter. Zuko was strong. Iroh had no doubt he would throw himself into this chase with even more fervor than before now that he knew the Avatar was still alive. It was truly unfortunate that circumstances were so unfavorable for both his nephew and the young monk, but at least Zuko's goal of capturing the Avatar would no longer seem so very impossible. Zuko now had more reason than ever to hope.

Unfortunately, Iroh knew it would be hard for the prince to see things so optimistically so soon after what he would deem an embarrassing defeat. The retired general scanned the deck, searching for his nephew with the intent to offer consoling words of wisdom. His eyes passed over the frozen soldiers, then the others, sprawled out across the soaked wood… but he could not find Zuko. Iroh looked frantically for his nephew, frantically scouring the deck one more time, but Zuko… Zuko was not there.

Suddenly Iroh was back in Ba Sing Se, looking into the eyes of one of his officers and _knowing, _even before the man opened his mouth,that something awful had happened to his son.

"Where…" He couldn't find his voice. He was the Dragon of the West, and he could hardly manage a sentence. "Where is Prince Zuko?"

Every soldier on the deck lowered their heads. Those frozen in ice managed to look even more uncomfortable than they had previously.

Lieutenant Jee appeared by his side. "The Avatar… threw Prince Zuko over the edge of the ship. We were in the middle of the battle, and did not have an opportunity to retrieve him-"

"Fetch me a length of rope."

"But, sir. It's been almost ten minutes-"

"_NOW!" _

Jee scrambled away. Iroh did not bother waiting to see if he followed orders. Rather, he began stripping down immediately, taking off his outer robes and trying not to think of the heavy armor he was certain his nephew had been wearing. If he had not changed out of it, any chance he'd had of making it to the surface-

_Do not even consider it. Zuko is alive. _

And with some surprise, Iroh realized he believed it. His nephew would not let himself die so soon after finding the Avatar. Never. Not Zuko.

Iroh repeated this to himself like a mantra as he approached the edge of the ship. He looked down into the icy water, expecting to see nothing but the freezing waves stretched out menacingly below.

His eyes widened then, and he reared back in shock when he saw a glowing light spreading throughout the water, the darkness of the waves morphing into a stunning blend of warm yellows and whites and blues and oranges and greens.

"General, it's too late! You can't jump!"

Iroh looked away for just a moment, reflexively glancing at the spindly engineer, an older man named Taro, who had recovered enough to offer what anyone would see as a reasonable suggestion in normal circumstances.

When he looked back at the water, the glowing was gone. In its place was his nephew, floating on the surface. Still wearing his full armor.

Floating and wearing his armor.

"Tell Lieutenant Jee to throw the rope when he returns… I am going to rescue my nephew," said Iroh, ignoring the other man's advice. Taro looked horrified, but not enough so as to ignore the orders of a superior officer. Iroh waited for the engineer to weakly nod his assent, and then, as soon as Taro did so, launched himself off the edge of the ship.

The icy water was a shock when he hit, but Iroh forced his breathing to remain even until his momentum slowed and he was able to kick his way back to the surface.

When he finally reached his nephew and touched the boys neck to find him warm, with a pulse beating strong beneath his neck, tears welled in his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, hugging the boy tight to his chest. He did not know whom he was thanking, but he was very much aware that no amount of gratitude would ever be enough to make up for his nephew's life. A part of him worried that spirits were involved and would want repayment that Zuko would not be able to give, but he pushed the notion aside. For the time being, he cared only that his nephew was still with him. The rest would come later. "Thank you."

"General!"

A rope appeared in front of him. It took him some time to grasp it, and even longer to wrap it around both he and Zuko in such a way that would allow them to be hauled up, but finally he was satisfied and called for Jee to crank them back aboard. Or, he supposed, Jee and whatever portion of the crew was not currently incapacitated. It probably would have been a better idea to send one of the… _trimmer _officers to retrieve his nephew. Of course, he would never have allowed anyone except for himself to do such a thing, but it certainly would have been easier on those attempting to return them to the ship.

As Iroh neared the deck, he heard murmuring break out amongst the crew as they realized he had Zuko in his grasp. Many of them, he knew, expected the prince to have forever disappeared beneath the sea, and he was somewhat disappointed as he realized that they probably would not have complained should that have been the case. He was aware of how little liked his nephew was amongst his men, and though it was occasionally warranted, Iroh did not feel such animosity was entirely deserved.

He was also rather upset that none of them had shown more concern when their prince was thrown off the ship in the middle of a fight.

Perhaps he would impart his disapproval later. For the time being, he had to make sure his nephew was truly okay.

The men finished hauling them onto the ship, and Iroh went about unwinding Zuko and himself from the mess of rope. Akio, the only crew member with any significant amount of medical experience, stepped forward and began fussing over Iroh. Iroh waved the younger man off.

"Not me. I will be fine. Look over my nephew."

"General-"

"He's alive. Now please-"

Skepticism colored Akio's face, but he moved to do as was asked. As soon as his fingers found Zuko's pulse, his eyes widened in amazement and he leaned forward to check him over more thoroughly. "This is… this isn't possible."

"How is he?"

Akio frowned and took to poking and prodding at the prince. "He's certainly warm enough- almost too warm, even for a firebender. No obvious signs of hypothermia or damage from the fall, and his breathing is perfectly fi-"

Iroh's heart stopped as Akio paled and stumbled backwards, looking as though he had seen a ghost. "What? Is something wrong? Has-"

"Uncle?" Iroh clamped his mouth shut, eyes flying to meet his nephew's, which were already, impossibly, _open_. Zuko blinked wearily. "How…?" He shook his head. "I was sinking."

Iroh could not find the words to respond. Instead, he reached out and embraced his nephew as tightly as possible.

"But he can't be _awake_…" breathed Akio.

"Well, obviously I am," Zuko snapped, voice growing stronger. He lingered in Iroh's embrace for a moment before pushing him off, albeit with less force than he would have usually. Iroh sighed. His nephew would never be comfortable showing so-called weakness around others. "Don't worry about me, Uncle. I'm fine." He took a deep breath and climbed to his feet, impressively not showing so much as an ounce of unsteadiness. Zuko looked as unsettled by the phenomenon as Iroh, but the crew was clearly more so. They were staring at him as though he had just risen from the dead.

Iroh wasn't entirely certain that wasn't the case.

"Nephew," he said, speaking gently as he could without Zuko accusing him of coddling. "I've no doubt you are… fine, but perhaps you could do with some rest? You…" _You just fell off of a ship and drowned. _"You have had quite a day."

"No. We must continue following the Avatar. Get this ship moving _now_." He turned on a heel, only to stop halfway through the movement when his eyes landed on the frozen men who'd been all but ignored up until that point. Concern flitted across Zuko's face for a brief moment before he arranged his features into its usual scowl. Teeth gritted, he looked to those of his crew who weren't trapped in ice. "Immediately _after _you thaw out your fellow men… And _hurry up_. We cannot afford to lose the Avatar's trail."

Stunned silence settled over the crew as Zuko stalked off. It wasn't until the prince was a fair distance away that Akio muttered under his breath, "If even dying can't keep the damn brat from obsessing over the Avatar, we're all fucking screwed." Iroh made to snap something about showing respect, but paused when he noticed his nephew's shoulders stiffen as he disappeared below deck. Almost as though he'd heard that…

But no. That would have been impossible.

"Private," Iroh snapped, harsher than he would have been under less stressful circumstances. His nephew had almost died, and _no one _had a right to treat it lightly. "I would suggest you mind your tongue about such matters."

"Y-yes sir," Akio stuttered. "I-"

"Go." He nodded at the still-trapped soldiers. "Help them. Some may be suffering from hypothermia."

"I… Of course, sir."

Iroh watched as Akio made to assist his fellow men, and then he followed his nephew's example and wandered off-deck, not to follow Zuko- he was certain the boy wished for alone time in which he could freely show weakness- but because he himself needed a few precious moments of solitude to think over what had happened.

His nephew's life had been saved through some sort of intervention, and worried as that made him, Iroh was also more grateful than he could ever say.

…

_I should be dead. _

Zuko lie curled on his bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees in what could only be described as a fetal position, and rocked back and forth while trying his hardest not to cry.

He had _felt it_, had been sickeningly, disgustingly aware of the last of his life slipping away from him at that terrifying moment before he'd lost consciousness. He could still remember the way his lungs had felt as though they were seconds from bursting in his chest, could recall with an eerie clarity the slow decline of his ability to focus, the loss of control over his vision and his limbs and the way every last ounce of energy had vanished from his body.

Even thinking about it made him feel so painfully _cold_, like he would never be warm again.

And yet he was _fine_.

...no. That was a lie.

He wasn't fine at all.

He'd known it the moment he had woken up. The smells and tastes had hit him first, had been almost overwhelming, though he'd made a point not to show it. It was like… like the two senses were no longer separate, as though tasting and smell had become the same thing, and every breath he took had given him more insight to his surroundings, from the crisp taste of the polar air to the salt water that soaked him to the bone, to the individual scents that made up Uncle's cologne. The hearing hadn't been apparent until later, when he was leaving and heard Akio mutter those awful words under his breath- words so muffled Zuko _knew _he shouldn't have been able to catch them.

Something had happened to him, something was _wrong with him. _He could feel it. Whatever had saved his life had brought him back _different_, and no matter how glad he was to still be breathing, he wondered if he hadn't brought his family grief by surviving like he had. What if it wasn't just those senses that had changed? And either way… he was still a freak for having lived at all. His crew knew it, had been unsettled when he'd come out of the water no less healthy than he'd been when he'd fallen into it. Their fear and disbelief had practically been tangible, and understandably so.

He should have died, swore he actually _had_, except he was still alive, was breathing and moving and probably in better condition than those soldiers he'd seen frozen to the deck.

It _wasn't natural. _

The thought made him shiver, and he curled in on himself even more tightly. What would his father think about this? Or Azula? The Fire Nation? What was his crew saying about it? And more than that, how was he supposed to deal with what had happened? How could he keep chasing the Avatar like nothing was wrong when the other boy had thrown him over the edge of his own ship, _after _going back on the terms of his surrender? After the Avatar had _let him die_? If Zuko faced him again, would the same thing happen? Would the monk try killing him a second time? Would he have to relive the same crushing darkness and pain and fear?

Zuko shook his head. He couldn't think like that. He _would _succeed in capturing the Avatar, had to, so he could go home… so he could go home to what? A father who would be disgusted if he learned his son had only escaped death at the hands of a small boy by the interference of… of _something_. Zuko wasn't one to blame every little happening on the spirits, but that was the first explanation that came to mind, and with it, another wave of fear struck him. Uncle had told him about spirits, and though he generally paid little attention to such senseless prattle, he'd heard enough to understand that they rarely helped humans without expecting something in return. If he really had been saved through the intervention of one of them, would he be expected to pay it back somehow?

His panic began to flare out of control, but the sound of footsteps echoing along the metal floors of his ship cut the reaction short. Zuko ignored how unnatural it was that he'd heard such a thing so much earlier than he would have before, instead stretching his limbs and sitting up in a much more respectable position. It was Uncle- he recognized the scent of his cologne, mixed with that of the freshly brewed tea the Dragon of the West seemed to be carrying with him- so he did not bother getting to his feet or rushing to replace his armor, but he did recognize the need to regain some degree of composure.

Of course, that composure fled the moment Uncle opened the door, looking much more concerned than he should have over his failure of a nephew. Zuko initially managed to keep his features even, but a probing look and gently spoken "Are you okay, my nephew?" were all it took to make his face crumple.

In an instant, Iroh was on his bed and wrapping strong arms around Zuko's shoulders, and in his quarters, away from his crew, Zuko allowed himself to accept the comfort. As warmth enveloped him, some of the lonely, aching chill Zuko had been attempting to ward off since he woke up faded just a bit, and his breathing became very slightly easier.

"Oh, Zuko. I was so worried. I am sorry that I was not there to help you."

Zuko shook his head and reluctantly pulled himself from Iroh's embrace. He couldn't have his uncle feeling any misplaced guilt. Not when none of this would have happened if Zuko hadn't been such a wretched fool.

"It was my own fault. I shouldn't have needed your help." Shame washed over him in waves as he reluctantly muttered, "I… I _felt bad, _Uncle. I'd let my frustration get away from me and sent the Avatar over the edge of the ship, and I just stood there, thinking about whether or not I should jump in to save him. I'd let my guard down because_ I felt bad_. Then he came back, and his eyes were glowing, and… and he threw me into the ocean without a second thought. "

He fell silent, waiting for the condemnation that was sure to come, but then gentle hands landed on Zuko's shoulders and he found himself looking up to meet Iroh's unwavering gaze.

"I have told you before, nephew," he said firmly, "and I shall tell you again: you are _never _weak for caring. Certainly not for regretting what you thought was the end of a young boy's life. If anything, it is the Avatar who should be sorry for his actions. He used powers you and your men did not have to launch an attack against which you could not possibly defend yourselves… and this was _after _he promised to surrender himself to you for the safety of his friends. You fought honorably, Prince Zuko, even more so because you cared about the well being of one who had deceived you. _You _have nothing to be ashamed of."

Tears threatened to leak from Zuko's eyes, and in an attempt to keep himself from falling for Iroh's patronizing words, he mumbled, "My father would not see things that way."

A pause. Then: "No, I am afraid he would not."

Zuko swallowed. "And he would not accept this either- me sending my crew straight after the Avatar. The Avatar broke the terms of his surrender. He _tried to kill me _after promising to come quietly. My father- he would expect me to go back and break my half of the agreement as well… to turn around and burn that village to the ground."

Iroh regarded him carefully.

"Do you plan to do so?"

He closed his eyes and tried to swallow his own self-loathing. "… I can't."

Iroh put a hand on his arm.

"There is nothing wrong with showing mercy."

Zuko snorted. There was a reason his uncle had not been victorious at Ba Sing Se, a reason his father had ascended to the throne while Iroh had been left with nothing. Normally Zuko would have pointed this out, but he was not in the right state of mind to push his uncle away. For the moment, he would say nothing of the old man's delusions.

"Something else you and my father would disagree about_,_" he muttered instead.

There was nothing Iroh could say to that, and Zuko was thankful he didn't try. For a long moment, they sat in relatively comfortable silence, Zuko basking in his uncle's presence. As much as he worried over the consequences of his survival, he was also thankful that he was able to experience the warmth of another human being once more. He'd been so worried that he would die alone, that he would never have this opportunity again.

Zuko thought back to one his final thoughts, something that had entered his head when he was sure he was going to die (or stay dead, as he was honestly not entirely sure which had happened). He remembered longing for love and acceptance from his father and sister. Iroh, he knew, already gave him those things in much more generous quantities than Zuko deserved, and though it did not ease the ache that came from not being worthy of the rest of his family's affections, he could recall with the utmost clarity how his dying wish in regards to Uncle had not been to receive anything from him, but rather to give him thanks, to make known his appreciation for his presence these last years.

He opened his mouth, knowing he should say something now that he had the chance.

"I…" He swallowed. The words stuck in his throat.

Uncle knew.

Right?

He exhaled. Of course.

Uncle had to know.

Zuko cleared his throat, and at Iroh's curious glance, said the first thing he could think of, "I didn't give the crew a specific destination." He realized it was true as soon as the words were out of his mouth and looked towards his door with some urgency. He'd told his men to follow the Avatar, but unless they knew more than he did- which he highly doubted- that was a very general order. "I…" He frowned, honestly unsure of what he should do next. Finally, he settled on, "I need to look over the maps and attempt to determine the Avatar's most likely course of action."

"What you need," said Uncle, "is _rest_. I am sure you are tired. I will look at the maps, but do your uncle's old heart a favor and try to get a small amount of sleep. Otherwise, I fear I shall drive myself quite mad with worry."

Zuko opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by a yawn. Maybe Uncle had a point.

"I suppose a few hours wouldn't hurt," he admitted reluctantly. He _was _tired, and while he had been unable to sleep before, Uncle's presence had calmed his spirit somewhat. Perhaps he would be able to settle down enough to rest for a short length of time.

"Certainly not. And if you need help relaxing, I have brought tea." He nodded to where he had left the cup. "It is jasmine. Your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite," muttered Zuko. "It's all just hot leaf juice."

"How could a member of my own family say something so horrible?"

Zuko groaned, but a smile escaped his lips after his uncle turned to leave.

Maybe… maybe the incident had not changed things so much as he had worried. It seemed there was a chance things could go back to normal after all.

...

**Author's Note:**

First-the last exchange about tea between Zuko and Iroh is paraphrased from the series; it occurred sometime when they were in Ba Sing Sae, although I do not know the specific episode.

Now, several things to cover real quickly that would have taken too much time to put on top.

1. I have fifty thousand words of this written. Only seven chapters, but long ones. The updates probably won't be closer together than weekly simply because a) the average chapter length is roughly 7000 words, and b) I'm still making plot tweaks and need to proofread. Still, I have this plotted out to the end and probably a quarter of the way written already. Meaning, it likely won't be abandoned, and update times should be consistent barring a few exceptions.

2. Tell me if you want any shipping in this story at all in regards to Zuko. If I do pair him with someone, it will be very light, but I would like to know who would be turned off by a sliver of romance and who would enjoy it. Also: Maiko, Zutara, or other? Thoughts on the matter would be much appreciated.

That's everything. I might post again before next Thursday to get a couple chapters out, but that's not a for-sure thing. Other than that, _please review_. I'd love to know what you think and where you expect this to go.

Thank you.


	2. Dragon's Fire

**Ch.2**

It was not long after Zuko woke up and began moving about his ship that he grew painfully aware that _nothing_ would be normal ever again.

He'd been well aware that his men hated him—his hearing had always been good, even if not so sharp as it seemed to have grown after his trip into the sea—and so he knew very well the things they whispered behind his back when they thought he couldn't hear.

That being said, he'd never expected them to _fear _him.

Of course, the fear itself would not have been so bad if they were afraid for the right reasons. His father and Azula both gained healthy respect from their inferiors through means of intimidation, and Zuko had long attempted to copy their methods with little success.

Unfortunately, now that his men _were _afraid of him, it wasn't because they were intimidated or because they respected him, but rather because they thought he was unnatural. Their frantic words reached his ears easily through the walls, and he was painfully aware that many of them thought he was a ghost, or that the spirits had touched him and it was bad luck to get too close to him. The worst, of course, were the rumors that they had to obey him not out of duty, but because disobedience would be met with retaliation from the dark spirits that had saved him.

He hated it. Hated how his men would duck their heads and meekly shuffle around him whenever he appeared, hated how they would whisper stories when they thought he wasn't listening, and hated how they cringed from his presence like even looking at him was damning. Only Uncle acted as though nothing was amiss, but Zuko knew very well that even he was worried. Maybe it helped his pride that the Dragon of the West was scared for and not of him, but it certainly did nothing to calm his fear.

If Uncle was afraid of what was going to happen to him, and his crew was simply afraid of him, _something awful_ was inevitably going to occur.

And even if it didn't, Zuko was dead certain that everyone was so sure of the contrary that his crew would probably try killing him in his sleep before the tension got to be too much.

The worst part was that he could do nothing to fix it. Uncle had tried talking to them, had attempted to make assurances that he could see spirits and didn't see anything at all wrong with Zuko, but everyone very well knew that Iroh had no clue what was really going on, and while they didn't believe the same of Zuko, the prince really didn't have any more idea than his uncle.

How was he supposed to reassure them when he couldn't even reassure himself?

For those awful first couple days, he'd been certain the situation could not possibly decline any further.

Then Uncle had _insisted _they stop for supplies at a Fire Navy controlled port. The prospect of doing so was enough to bring a scowl to Zuko's face. Not only were his crew incorrigible gossips who would spread the news of the incidentin the South Pole to anyone willing to listen, but spending time around the Fire Nation Navy was only asking for embarrassment. He absolutely hated seeing men who were his inferiors lord their superior crews and circumstances and _lives _over him, hated seeing his puny, old-style ship next to new ones twice its size, and he _despised_ the way people looked at him like he was a circus sideshow instead of a member of the royal family.

His fears were proved well-founded the moment he stepped off his ship. Near every soldier crowded around the docks turned to stare, apparently having nothing better to do than gawk at the banished mockery of a prince. Zuko glared at them all.

"Uncle," he said through gritted teeth. "We are getting our supplies and leaving _immediately._" _People are staring. _He had too much pride to say that out loud; instead, he settled on confessing the more legitimate of reasons he wanted to leave. "If we stay too long, the crew will start talking."

"About the Avatar?"

"No!" He paused. "Yes! I mean… about _everything_. Once word gets out of what happened, my father will—every firebender will…" He shook his head. "_Things _will start getting in the way—"

"Getting in the way of what, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko's blood froze and his entire body stiffened at the all too familiar voice. Even knowing who it was before he turned around, Zuko couldn't help but cringe when his eyes rested on Captain Zhao's sneering face.

He had half a mind to tell the bastard off for eavesdropping, to snap that what he was talking about wasn't any of his damn business and he should leave before Zuko grew too tempted to burn the smirk off his ugly face, but Zuko didn't want to start a fight.

What he wanted was to get this detour over with. As quickly as possible.

And maybe… maybe if he stayed calm, doing so would remain a legitimate possibility.

"Captain Zhao," said Zuko, only just managing to maintain some degree of politeness in his voice. By the disproval in his uncle's expression, it apparently wasn't enough.

Zhao's smirk widened.

"It's _Commander _now." His eyes rested on Iroh. "And-" He bowed to Uncle then, emphasizing the motion to draw added attention to the fact that he didn't bother giving Zuko any form of respectful address, "-General Iroh. Great hero of our nation."

Iroh bowed back, even as his eyes narrowed. "_Retired _general."

Zhao ignored the correction with a saccharine smile. "The Fire Lord's brother and son are welcome guests anytime. What brings you to my harbor?"

"We have run very low on supplies," explained Iroh. "We were just in the South Pole, and so have not been able to replenish our stocks for some time."

"All we need is food and medical provisions," added Zuko emphatically. "Then we'll leave. You will have _no trouble _from us."

He made direct eye contact with Zhao, daring the captain- _commander_- to ask questions.

Zhao merely continued to smirk.

"No, no. You can't leave yet; after spending so much time in the barren tundra," he said slickly, "you _must _be interested in warming up over hot tea. Join me for a drink?" A pause. "Unless you're too worried that those _things _you spoke of earlier will get in your way should you take the time to stop."

Zuko cursed under his breath.

Zhao had heard enough to be suspicious and was probably coming up with explanations for Zuko's words even as he spoke—explanations that had him too wary to let the matter go.

Not going with Zhao now would only confirm whatever suspicions he'd started to entertain.

"We would be honored to join you," said Uncle after a moment. He caught Zuko's eye and sent him a silent warning, his meaning tangible enough he might as well have spoken the words aloud. _Behave. Don't panic_. "Do you have any ginseng? It's my favorite."

Zuko growled under his breath, but stomped along behind Zhao and his uncle as they chatted like old acquaintances.

Dammit. He was _so _screwed.

…

After a long-winded conversation on how certain Zhao was that the Earth Kingdom would be defeated by the end of the year—which was _stupid_, because Zuko had seen the Earth Kingdom's people, knew they would never willingly submit to his father—Zuko had almost thought they might be able to leave without trouble. A few deflected questions about the Avatar, and he and Uncle were making for the door…

-and then the guards crossed their spears to keep them from leaving, _just _as a third soldier entered the room with an unmistakably mocking smile on his face.

"Commander Zhao, we interrogated the crew as you instructed." _No_. Zuko gritted his teeth. He knew his crew—knew they hated him, that they would have been all too _eager _to gossip about what'd happened. He just hoped that hadn't told them _everything_.

"And…?" said Zhao, with interest.

"They confirmed Prince Zuko had the Avatar in custody, but let him escape." A pause. "There were also rumors that the prince was killed by the Avatar. The crew said he only survived by calling upon dark spirits."

"_WHAT?" _

All eyes flew to Zuko, and he clamped his mouth shut, well aware he'd just ruined any chance he'd had of pretending nothing had happened.

Why did he have to be such an incompetent moron _all the time_?

"I believe you may have left out some _important information _when discussing your trip to the South Pole, Prince Zuko." Zhao smiled wolfishly. "Would you care to… enlighten me?"

He was going to kill his crew. Every single one of them.

Slowly.

"I am not going to tell you anything," he spat.

As it turned out, he didn't need to. The soldier who'd interrogated his crew reported _everything. _Zuko's fists clenched tighter and tighter throughout the entire story—his teeth gnashing at every detail the crew had exaggerated—until finally the tale was finished and Zhao turned to look at Zuko with nothing less than disgust written all over his face.

Knowing that his father would have looked at him in the _exact same way _had he heard the news made his failure hurt so much more.

"So a twelve-year-old boy not only bested you and your firebenders…" Zhao stepped forward, so that his face was right in front of Zuko's. "He also _killed _you."

"He threw me off my ship," Zuko growled. "I held on to the edge. My crew was _mistaken_. I never touched the water."

"They said you sank for nearly ten minutes before General Iroh dragged your useless carcass overboard."

He growled. "They're the scum of the Fire Nation Navy. Do you expect them to be _honest_?" A deep breath, and then, mockingly: "Besides, I'm _right here_, Zhao. If the Avatar had managed to kill me, I'd like to think I would still be dead."

"Oh, please," said Zhao. "It doesn't matter if you died or not; to be honest, I'm more inclined to agree with your opinion that your crew is a bunch of disreputable drunks. Such superstitious nonsense is hardly my concern. I am more interested in the fact that you let the Fire Nation's most dangerous enemy escapeafter apparently capturing him."

"I underestimated him _once_," Zuko spat. "It will not happen again!"

"No," said Zhao. He smirked. "It will not. Because you won't have a second chance."

Zuko suddenly felt ice cold, as though he'd fallen into the freezing polar waters once more.

"Commander Zhao-" _Don't show him how scared you are. Be angry. Lose your temper. Just don't let him see you panic. _"I've been hunting the Avatar for two years and I-"

"And you failed!" Zhao shouted angrily, and Zuko swallowed, biting back bitter disappointment because the bastard _was right_. He'd failed. Just like always. "Capturing the Avatar is too important to leave in a teenager's hands. He's mine now."

Zuko couldn't even find words to respond.

He _despised _Zhao, hated him with every fiber of his being.

He was also trying very hard not to cry.

So close.

He'd been _so damn close. _

Zhao spun and made to leave.

"Keep them here," he announced over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

Zuko slammed his foot down on the table in front of him the moment Zhao was out of sight. That… the bastard was _not _going to steal his ticket home. Zuko refused to allow it.

He turned, still steaming, to see one of his guards looking at him like his crew had begun to—with fear in his eyes.

"The spirits are going to damn you for this," he hissed, ignoring the way his uncle winced at his words. The spirits had it out for him anyway. Let them give him more crap for speaking in their place. They were already too late to ruin his life or take away his honor. He had nothing left. "I'm going to _make them _damn you."

Not like making the guard squirm actually accomplished anything.

It did lessen his anger somewhat. Zuko managed to calm down enough to sit and breathe evenly for the next few minutes, at least some degree of composure returning as he assured himself that Zhao didn't have him beat _yet_.

Then the bastard returned, that damnable smirk still stretched across his face, and Zuko's tenuous calm all but disappeared.

"My search party is ready," he said, looking directly at Zuko as he did so. Zuko glared back with as much ferocity as he could muster, like he hadn't just been betrayed by his crew and degraded by Zhao and disrespected about a hundred times over by people who were supposed to be loyal to him. "Once I'm out to sea, my guards will escort you back to your ship and you'll be free to go."

"Why?" he asked furiously. "Are you worried I'm going to try to stop you?"

Zhao's laughter wreaked havoc on what minute control Zuko still had over his temper. "You? Stop me?" His smirk broadened. "_Impossible." _

"Don't underestimate me Zhao!" he spat. "I _will _capture the Avatar before you." _I have to. _

Uncle climbed to his feet as well, looking worried. "Prince Zuko, that's enough."

Zuko ignored him, not needing any of his stupid 'words of wisdom.' He didn't want to hear how he had to be calm and peaceful and think before he acted. He wanted to tear Zhao's face off, wanted to burn his stupid port—with all his stupid technologically advanced ships—_to the ground. _

Zhao didn't seem any more inclined to let the argument die than Zuko was.

"You can't compete with me. I have hundreds of war ships under my command… and you? You're just a banished prince. No home, no allies." The words hit him like knives to the heart. Then, the worst: "Your own father doesn't even want you."

The statement he'd heard so many times whispered amongst his crew, in his nightmares, and repeated in his thoughts sounded _so much worse _coming from Zhao's mouth, spoken so bluntly to his face.

_He's lying. He has to be lying. _

"You're wrong!" he shouted, and Zuko internally winced because he _knew _he was reacting too strongly for someone who'd been completely unaffected. A deep breath, and then with as much conviction as he could muster, he plowed forward, refusing to show doubt, "Once I deliver the Avatar to my father, he will welcome me home with honor, and restore my place on the throne."

Zhao locked eyes with him, almost… almost looking like he _pitied _Zuko, just for a moment, and that was so much worse than the hate and the anger that'd been there before.

"If your father really wanted you home," he said slowly, annunciating his words words with care, as if trying to make each syllable hurt, "he would have let you return by now. Avatar, or no Avatar." _Shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up. _"But in his eyes, you are a failure and a disgrace to the Fire Nation."

"That's not true." Dammit he sounded _weak _when he said that.

Zhao was wrong. His father… his father had _told him, _before he left, his father had said that his banishment was for his own good. He would leave, and he would learn honor and respect, and then he would come home _a proper prince of the Fire Nation. _The Fire Lord had said it himself. He'd sent Zuko away because he wanted to help him.

His father's words meant more than Zhao's. He knew that. He was just being stupid, was letting himself be baited.

He had to calm down.

"You've got the scar to prove it."

…and that was _it. _

He launched himself out of his chair and tore towards Zhao, looking up at the smarmy bastard and stalking forward, frustration only building when the commander peered at him as though he were a child having a tantrum.

"Maybe you'd like one to match," he hissed.

"Is that a challenge?" Zhao asked. Mockingly. Like Zuko wasn't someone to be afraid of.

_And what if Zhao's right? I'm an awful firebender. Useless. I- _

No.

He refused to back down.

"An agni kai," he said. "At sunset."

"Very well." Zhao straightened and took a step back. "It's a shame your father won't be here to watch me humiliate you." He started walking away, then stopped at the last moment and said, over his shoulder, "I guess your uncle will do."

"Prince Zuko?" said Uncle when Zhao was gone. "Have you forgotten the last time you dueled a master?"

Zuko gritted his teeth and glanced at his uncle, hand raising as if to brush his scar before he let it fall to his side once more.

"I will never forget."

And with that he stalked away. He needed to prepare. Needed to shake off Zhao's ugly lies.

"_If your father really wanted you home, he would have let you return by now." "In his eyes, you are a failure and disgrace to the Fire Nation." "You've got the scar to prove it." "If your father really wanted you home, he would have let you return by now." "In his eyes, you are a failure and disgrace to the Fire Nation." "You've got the scar-" _

He exhaled sharply.

"Zuko… are you okay?"

He looked to Uncle. "Fine."

"It is not too late to back out. You… you are still recovering."

"I. Am. Fine."

"Zhao was saying those things to hurt you," said Uncle.

Not 'Zhao was lying.' Or 'None of it was true.' The word choice probably—_maybe—_wasn't deliberate, but it did nothing to help Zuko's already shaky belief in himself. Like even his uncle had believed what the commander had been saying.

"I wish to be alone, Uncle," Zuko muttered.

Then, vowing to push Zhao's words from his mind for good, Zuko stalked off to find a quiet place where he could order his thoughts before sunset.

…

Zuko fixed his eyes on Zhao as he hovered near the edge of the arena, watching as the other man prepared for their Agni Kai. He could taste Zhao's sweat in the air as he warmed his muscles, could hear the steady thud of the commander's heart.

Zuko's own fluttered erratically, but he pretended not to notice how calm Zhao was compared to himself. Pretended he couldn't hear the other man's heartbeat at all, because acknowledging it also meant acknowledging that he was a freak.

That there was something wrong with him.

"Remember your firebending basics, Prince Zuko," Uncle was saying. Zuko spared him a glance, but found he couldn't take his eyes off Zhao. "They are your greatest weapons."

"I refuse to let him win," he said, instead of acknowledging his uncle's words.

Uncle was wrong. His basics were not his greatest weapons. His _determination _was. His bending was relatively unexceptional and he knew it, but if he could keep attacking, could go after Zhao until the other man started to get frustrated, started to lose his composure… _then _he would win.

Pathetic bending or no.

Uncle seemed to sense some of this too, because he said nothing more as Zuko stepped into the arena.

Zhao did the same. He was still smirking.

Zuko's heartbeat ratcheted.

Zhao's remained unchanged. Almost taunting in its consistency.

"This will be over quickly."

_He really believes that. _

Zuko was not entirely sure if the knowledge intimidated or infuriated him.

Then the gong sounded, and the time for thinking was over.

Zuko watched Zhao carefully as they circled each other. Neither made to attack. One moment passed. Then two. It was apparent Zhao wanted Zuko to make the first move.

_Then I'll give him what he wants. _

With as much force as he could muster, Zuko arched his arms and then lowered them harshly, waiting for the rush of fire to follow-

White and green and red lit his hands for a moment, warm and almost _liquidy_, before it spluttered out.

His eyes boggled and what fear he'd felt before increased tenfold.

What was that? What… that hadn't been… that wasn't even firebending!

Stomach dropping, Zuko retraced the events of the past days in his head. He'd drowned almost three days ago, had meditated since, but… but Uncle had insisted on a break from his actual training, had suggested he take time off from bending to make sure falling into the ocean didn't interfere with his chi.

Now it became apparent he _should have done something. _Because bad as it was that his bending had… that his bending had faded, or changed, or gotten _completely screwed up_, it was worse that he had to find out in the middle of an Agni Kai against _Zhao_.

Unwilling to accept what had happened, Zuko tried a fire punch, only for the flames to do the exact same thing as they had before.

Zhao frowned for a moment, like he was worried it was a trick, but Zuko was unable to hide the despair on his face, and soon the commander was laughing, not even bothering to defend himself.

"You… you can't _bend anymore_."

"I-"

He shook his head, a mocking smirk dominating his face. "The great Prince Zuko has _lost his bending. _How in the hell did that happen?" He paused. "Wait… you actually _did _fall into the ocean, didn't you? Let me guess: the cold depleted your chi. Or _were _you saved by the spirits… in exchange for your firebending?"

As soon as the words left Zhao's mouth, Zuko flinched backwards.

No. No. That couldn't be it. If that was it, they should have just let him die.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Prince Zuko! It is okay… you do not need to fight now-"

_Oh no. _Zuko shook his head and glanced at Uncle. "No! I'm not backing down." He looked to Zhao. "I can bend just fine. I was experimenting with something new. Now shut up and fight me."

Zhao guffawed once more, the sound ringing in Zuko's ears. His face turned red with fury even as hopelessness gnawed at his insides. He really _couldn't bend. _What in Agni's name was he going to do? Not even just in the case of the Agni Kai. What about after? How could he survive without his bending? His crew would abandon him, he would never capture the Avatar, and-

_This first. Worry later. _

"Something new? You always were less advanced than your sister, but I would have figured you had already learned fire punches at a somewhat reasonable age… perhaps _fourteen_."

Most benders learned fire punches at _six. _Zuko had figured them out at eight.

A growl escaped his throat. "Shut up and fight me, Zhao."

The commander barred his teeth.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this."

And then he advanced forward.

For the first time, Zuko was unspeakably thankful for his newly advanced senses. He could feel the atmosphere around Zhao shift as he prepared to bend, could taste the fire in the air just before it was generated, and was able to dodge accordingly. His movements were surprisingly stealthy as well… more balanced and coordinated than he could remember, but he'd heard somewhere that hearing and balance were related, so perhaps maybe-

Zhao sent a steam of fire at his head, and Zuko flattened himself to the ground.

_Not the time for speculating. _

As the fire soared over him, Zuko raised an arm once more and punched at as Zhao as hard as he could, but still only that weak, barely-there trickle of molten fire escaped from his hand.

Zhao laughed and tried to hit Zuko again, and he was forced to roll out of the way before he could attempt another attack. The fire roared in his ears as it soared just past his head.

"Ready to surrender yet?" taunted Zhao.

"I will _never _surrender to you," Zuko spat back. He needed… he needed a different plan. Maybe if he got close enough to Zhao, what little fire he could produce would still hurt him. If he could move quickly enough and tackle him…

But that would be dishonorable. It was a fire duel. Physical attacks were against the rules.

Maybe… maybe he could get Zhao to hurt himself somehow, if Zuko could position himself right next to him. He could get him to shoot fire and perhaps manipulate his hands, make him burn himself. That could technically be considered physical, but not an attack. The damage would be done with bending.

Okay. He would try that.

Really, it was the only thing he _could _try. He had no other choice.

The issue was getting close enough to Zhao to put his plan into action without hurting himself in the process.

Zhao fired a blast at Zuko, and he rolled out of the way quickly before vaulting himself to his feet. Another attempt at bending, hoping for _something, _but his concentration was failing and there wasn't even smoke.

His mad plan was really his only chance.

Another attack from Zhao, and Zuko ducked under it and _ran_. He had to stop before he was halfway to the older man, had to dodge again and backtrack when a stream of fire was sent in his direction, but he spun fast and managed to gain another few feet, and then several more. Soon he was right near Zhao and every movement, every attack seemed to be going at about a thousand miles per hour.

Zhao fired once more, and Zuko turned away from the blast, positioned himself behind Zhao- _if he'd just bend right now…_-

Except Zhao wasn't an idiot.

He sent a flaming fist where Zuko _wasn't_, and Zuko dodged straight into it, only realizing what was going to happen after it was too late. The blow hit him directly in the stomach and Zuko groaned as he collapsed to the ground, the bare flesh of his abdomen blistering under the harsh flames.

A perfect hit. Just like the one that had marred his face.

_No. Keep moving. Don't give up. _

He tried to regain his footing, but Zhao sent a fire kick in his direction. The steady stream engulfed Zuko and he stumbled backwards again, unable to move out of the way. He tried to block, but his bending _wouldn't work _and the fire lingered on his skin for a long moment, burning and searing before it faded.

Desperately, Zuko raised his hands to try to summon some kind of flame.

It didn't work. Zhao made perfect contact when he set his hand on fire and punched him again, this time in the face—_right on his scar_—and Zuko fell, mouth gaping open, unable to move or think or breath because dammit _it hurt_, and suddenly it wasn't Zhao standing over him anymore, it was his father. And he was eleven again and crying and hugging his chest and he _couldn't see out of his left eye_, and all he wanted was for it to go away.

_Please, please make it go away. _

Dimly, he was aware of Zhao talking. Something about finishing him off being an act of mercy.

Then he could taste Zhao's fire. Coming closer. Couldn't see it, but he was so painfully aware of it, right towards his face, the other side—_Matching scars? Or will this just kill me?—_and while most of him was too far gone, too scared, too weak to care, some baser instincts refused to let the hit land that easily.

He rolled out of the way, vision in his right eye focusing as he did so, even though his left… his left…

His left eye felt like it had after his first Agni Kai all over again. He took a deep breath and tried to move, to raise a hand to the offending injury, but his entire body was burnt and hurt. The smell of scorched flesh settled heavily in his nostrils—the taste lingered on his tongue.

Above him, the shadow of Zhao made to strike.

He was too close. No time to flinch away again. Not now that Zhao knew he wasn't totally out of it.

His good eye met the other man's for a brief moment.

Fire descended towards him.

And Zuko _forced_ his burnt arms up to protect himself, reflexively calling forth a wave of heat, a wave of _something _to shield him, and then his chi swelled, traveling through his limbs and torso and all throughout his body. After a moment, it explodedout of him and he could hear fire whirring as he was engulfed in a bright, colorful light. It was some kind of fire, he thought, except it was _warm_, wonderfully warm and comforting and all in an instant, the burning was gone and he could feel, somewhere deep inside of him, things being _fixed… _he could feel the skin reconstructing around his face, and the damaged eye knitting back together. The fire tugged at his scar for a heartbeat before withdrawing, recognizing that the injury was too old to be fixed. And then it kept traveling, kept kissing his skin and ghosting over the less severe burns, focusing around where Zhao had punched him in the stomach, and then-

Then expanding outward, Not encompassing only him anymore, but surrounding Zhao as well…

A moment later it was gone, and Zhao was lying across from him. _Dead_, was Zuko's first thought, but he could still hear a heartbeat, a strong heartbeat, like his bending hadn't done any damage at all, not beyond knocking him out.

_But that… that was enough, _thought Zuko. Because he was still alive, and… and he didn't hurt anymore. He ached, and he was tired-

_Really tired_, he realized. His eyes fluttered closed, but no. He needed to get up, needed to leave the arena before Zhao to be declared the true victor.

Slowly, reminding himself again and again that he just needed to reach Uncle, just needed to make it those few steps, Zuko managed to haul himself to his knees. He tried and failed to stand, but he was too exhausted for pride, and so he _crawled_ out of the arena and to Uncle. Vaguely he heard himself announced as the winner, and then, as soon as Iroh was in front of him, kneeling next to him and fussing, Zuko recognized that he was safe and let his eyes drift shut and exhaustion overwhelm him.

…

General Iroh clutched Zuko tight to his chest and tried not to panic. That boy was going to be the death of him, but _oh, _Iroh did not care so long as Zuko was _okay_. He'd had a bad feeling from the moment his nephew had challenged Zhao, but he hadn't expected that something so devastating would happen! While he'd convinced Zuko to rest by threatening the loss of his chi, he had not honestly believed his own words; his nephew had been _fine_, and he did not think the spirits would be so cruel.

Indeed, he'd only been trying to get his nephew to take a break.

How guilty he felt about that now. If he had simply allowed Zuko to practice, the boy would have seen that his bending had… had _altered_. He would not have challenged Zhao, or perhaps they could have worked out the kinks together, and his challenge would not have gone so badly as it had.

_Although, _Iroh reminded himself as he took in his nephew's skin, unblemished save for his scar, _it could have gone much, much worse. _

Iroh was not able to explain what had happened to his nephew underneath the waters of the South Pole, but he did know that he recognized the fire that had enveloped him during his Agni Kai. It had been years since he'd laid eyes on anything like it, but the sight was unmistakable: his nephew had been using fire very, _very _similar to that of the dragons. Iroh also knew, with a deep certainty, that the fire was also the light he had seen under the sea before Zuko had reappeared.

Iroh had always understood the concept of 'fire is life' well enough, but apparently some greater being had taken it much more literally than he ever would have expected.

When Zuko's fire had dissolved during the start of the Agni Kai, it had been when he tried to attack. It was not until he moved to defend himself that the flames moved to his bidding at all, and even that was uncontrolled and sporadic. The dragon fire had only appeared to be under Zuko's control when it was healing him, and Iroh had a feeling that Zuko had not even _meant _to do that.

He also had a feeling that his nephew's odd bending would not go away. If Zuko had been as close to death as Iroh worried, or if he had died completely, as some of the crew theorized, his inner fire would have gone out. And while Iroh would not pretend to understand specifics, he could only assume that the fire that had been used to save him had also taken the place of his lost fire within.

It was merely conjecture, but from what he had seen… he worried that the change to Zuko's bending was permanent and internal—that his nephew would no longer be able to consistently attack with his fire, but only… only heal.

Beautiful a thing as Iroh found the concept, he was also aware of the danger. Ozai would never approve, but more than that, he did not know how Zuko himself would handle the change. His nephew was no fool; he would recognize instantly that the Fire Nation would frown upon the idea of using firebending to heal. Knowing his tendency to beat himself up over things beyond his control, Iroh had no doubt Zuko would think something was _wrong with him_, that it would take time and patience before his nephew could even begin to understand the value of his gift.

If he would _ever _understand it.

But oh, Iroh was also so very tempted to be thankful for this, if he was truly right about what had happened. Because Zuko _needed _this. If… if his flame truly did bring life now, if it had changed as Iroh thought, it might be exactly what Zuko required. Because aggressive as his nephew was, he also had an ingrained tendency towards helping those who needed it. If Iroh could handle this right, he could use these unique circumstances to encourage that tendency. Maybe he could even direct his nephew away from his path of chasing the Avatar—although Iroh, despite assuming throwing Zuko from the ship had been an accident, was upset enough with the monk that he had half a mind to capture him himself—and towards a less destructive path.

The odds of doing so were almost in his favor. Zuko's attempts to catch the boy would become much more difficult with his bending seemingly crippled, and his chances of success increasingly unlikely. This would give the young monk time to perhaps harness his powers, and it would give Iroh time to help his nephew see that he was worth more than his father's opinion of him.

_Of course, _thought Iroh, _perhaps, with training, he will be able to bend normally again and all this speculating will have been for naught. _

And while such a thing would almost be a tragedy—healing fire would be such a _gift_ for his nephew, even if he would not able to see it right away—Iroh almost wished that the Agni Kai _had _been a fluke. That Zuko would be able to bend normally soon, and that his nephew would not have to face the challenges that would most certainly be presented to him otherwise.

"Then again, I am sure you can handle whatever it is you will have to face," said Iroh to his unconscious nephew. He pulled back from Zuko to look him over once more, shaking his head at how thorough his healing had been. Iroh had panicked when he saw Zhao burn his nephew… had started crying when he saw Zuko break down after Zhao repeated the injury he'd suffered at the hands of his father. But now… now Zuko was physically fine. Sure as Iroh was that the encounter would bring back unwanted memories, at least his nephew had survived it one piece.

At least he had healed himself completely.

It was another beautiful miracle, and again, Iroh wondered what entity was watching over his nephew. He also, with some degree of fear, wondered what would be expected in exchange for these interventions?

_Perhaps, _he told himself, _perhaps Zuko simply has a destiny that the spirits wish to see fulfilled. _

The thought comforted him, and heavy as his heart was, he managed to restore his smile as he picked Zuko up and began heading towards his ship.

Before he left, he paused and looked to the soldier who'd presided over the Agni Kai.

"Tell Commander Zhao," he said, "that if he is silent on this matter, Zuko and I will be as well. News of his loss will not spread, so long as no one knows of my nephew's… abilities."

"V-very well, General," said the man, though his eyes were still fixated on Zuko.

Iroh sighed.

If this continued, his poor nephew was going to have to get used to such fear.

Likely from his own crew, nonetheless.

Iroh shook his head. No. He would not make his nephew suffer such at the hands of his own men. They had already caused him great grief by subjecting him to Zhao's mocking, and that was in addition to the heartache Zuko had faced whenever he overheard them talking about him behind his back.

That would stop. He would speak to the crew. As much of a handful Zuko had been to work with, he did not deserve such ill treatment. Perhaps… perhaps if he could work something out with his nephew as well, his men would be more willing to show Zuko respect.

Yes. He would talk to the crew and his nephew.

And then…

Then he did not know. Zuko was unpredictable, and it was even more difficult to guess his reaction after receiving such an unexpected surprise.

Iroh supposed he simply best be ready for whatever happened next.

...

**Author's Note: **

**I'm on vacation right now so am just throwing this chapter up here real quick. I'll do a more proper AN later. For now, thanks for all the reviews and follows. I really appreciate the input, and look forward to more in the future. As for the pairings, I won't name any now-I'm not sure myself, so I'll just go along with the most common advice and see where the story goes. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	3. A Different Perspective

**Ch.3**

**...**

"You have to tell him!"

"Are you kidding, Katara!? You're the one who broke him out of the iceberg, you're the one who brought him home, and you're the one who took him to the frightening Fire Nation ship and set off the alarm that brought Zuko to the South Pole in the first place!" Sokka threw his hands in the air at the conclusion of his rant, face red and eyes flashing with stress. That was precisely when he noticed Aang looking at Katara and him oddly from atop Appa's head.

"What are you guys whispering about?" he asked innocently, his usual smile slopped across his face.

Sokka's heart clenched.

"Er… um-" It should have been easy. Just a couple sentences. _You know the angry jerk with the ponytail? Yeah, you kinda accidently might have killed him. In a manner that was probably scary and more than a little painful. _Except Sokka couldn't bring himself to say the words. He'd already figured out that Aang was the type to cry over killing a bug. Heck, he couldn't even bring himself to eat _already dead _meat. If he were to learn he'd killed a teenage boy, he would _lose it. _

…especially given that several days had passed already since he'd done it.

Aang had been so thrilled after they escaped the South Pole that neither Sokka or Katara had been able to say anything. Then he started talking about going to the Southern Air Temple, and they'd hardly wanted to broach any subject that might upset him, given that both he and Katara knew very well that the kid was going to learn his entire people had been brutally massacred. Now the Air Temple business had finally been concluded, and Aang was _just _starting to smile again.

Sokka didn't find it all that appealing of a prospect to break his heart for the second time in only a few days.

"Sokka?" pressed Aang, starting to look worried.

Sokka snuck a glance at Katara, who adamantly refused to meet his gaze. Of course.

"We were… talking about _food_," blurted Sokka, cringing as he spoke. So maybe there was a chance Aang wouldn't ever find out what'd happened—that would be best, probably. But if he did, and he realized how long Sokka and Katara had kept it from him… there would be problems_. _

He really needed to say something. Katara obviously wasn't going to.

"Why are you whispering then?"

Damn. That kid was good.

"I…" He thought of something and latched desperately onto the idea. "It involves an embarrassing allergic reaction Katara gets when she eats seal blubber jerky!"

"_What!?" _

Sokka ignored his sister.

"Yeah. She wanted some of mine, and I had to remind her of what happened the last time she tried it. Welts everywhere, and this _awful _rash, right on her-"

"I get it! I get it!" Aang blurted hurriedly. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Sorry I asked."

He practically flew back up to Appa's head.

"Sokka! Now I can't eat jerky in front of him," Katara hissed.

"More for me," he said dismissively. He glanced at Aang. "That isn't the problem. We _need _to tell him what happened."

"B-but the air temple, and learning Monk Gyatso was killed, and all that other Avatar stuff—that's already taken a lot out of him," Katara protested. "Do we need to give him anything else to worry about? If we don't say anything, he'll probably never know!"

"Katara…"

"It'll hurt him," she protested. "Besides, Zuko was hardly innocent. Did you see how he'd treated Gran Gran? He _deserved _it."

Sokka opened his mouth to tell her that the Fire Nation prince could have done a lot worse, but shut it before he could say anything. His sister already knew that—she'd seen the _real _Fire Nation raid when they were younger, knew very well what it looked like when firebenders wanted to do damage. Zuko hadn't been trying to hurt them; he'd just wanted Aang. And while Sokka really couldn't guess as to why the nation's _prince_, of all people, was getting his hands dirty on a personal search for the Avatar, the fact that Zuko had apparently been willing to die trying to capture him was upsetting. Not just because a soldier near his age had been killed, but because he'd seemed to have a lot riding on his mission. No one—not even a Fire Nation prince—would risk _that much _about of spite. Zuko had been fighting for something that'd mattered to him.

Exactly like every other warrior involved in the war.

Katara probably could guess some of that. Whether she was going to acknowledge it was a different story. And if she wasn't willing to look at the issue from both perspectives, Sokka wasn't about to try forcing her into it.

Just like he wouldn't force Aang to face what he'd done. Some things were easier left alone, and even though it chafed at him to ignore Zuko's death completely—especially given that he didn't agree at all with Katara's claim that Aang wouldn't find out about it eventually—he would let the matter go. They had more important things to worry about.

Or so he told himself.

…

Very few things made Lieutenant Jee nervous, but the sight of General Iroh boarding the ship with his unconscious nephew slung over his shoulder absolutely _terrified _him.

Jee had been one of the few members of the crew who had not sold Zuko out to Zhao's men. Not because of any sense of duty towards the prince himself, but out of respect for the Dragon of the West. A part of him had also cringed away from the idea of selling out his leader. No matter how annoying the royal brat might be, and no matter how unsettled Jee had been by the boy's adventure into the polar waters, Jee had too much honor to damage the reputation of one of his superiors.

Unfortunately, most of the crew held no such reservations. It hadn't even been an interrogation, really—if Zhao's men had not asked questions, he suspected the crew would have cornered them and started talking first chance they had.

And now… now Zuko was hurt, and they were all going to pay.

"General Iroh," Jee said nervously as the man passed him. He swallowed. "Is Prince Zuko…"

"My nephew is merely a little tired," said Iroh simply, keeping his features uncharacteristically blank. If anything, that was worse than if the general had stomped onto the ship, screaming for blood; at least then Jee would have known what to expect. As it was, Iroh wasn't giving anything away. "I am going to take him to his quarters now, but in the meantime, order the crew to begin heading north. Oh? And, after the ship has set sail, would you please tell everyone to gather in the dining hall? I would like to have a word with them."

Even having expected it, Jee flinched at Iroh's last order. Jee was pretty sure he knew what the general wanted to talk about, and he was certain it wouldn't be a calm discussion over cups of tea. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if there was something he might be able to say to diffuse the situation, but the presence of Zuko's unconscious destroyed the legitimacy of anything he possibly could have said.

With a deep breath and a nervous swallow, Jee moved to follow the general's orders.

…

Zuko woke with a pounding head and aching muscles. He felt as though his entire body had been run over by a tank train, and his limbs were cold and aching from what he recognized as chi deficiency. He'd used too much power, had depleted his inner fire, and he could feel it to his very bones.

It was only a moment later that the memories came back and he recalled the precise reason he was so tired.

Horrified, Zuko jolted up in bed, only to flinch when he noticed Uncle sitting next to him, eyes resting on his face with some amount of concern. Zuko reddened after realizing his ridiculous reaction had been witnessed, but his embarrassment was forgotten quickly as his focus returned to the Agni Kai.

Or, more specifically, to his bending.

He raised a hand and made to summon a small fire, but-

"Don't even try to bend now, Prince Zuko," said Uncle. "You used a great deal of power to end the Agni Kai, and you need to let your inner fire replenish itself. Overextending so soon after could cause permanent damage."

Zuko had half a mind to ignore his Uncle's advice, but he knew the old man was right. His bending was already screwed up; he didn't need to make things worse.

"My bending," said Zuko instead, even as he lowered his hand, "has already been permanently damaged."

A comforting hand rested on his leg, and Zuko could not find the energy to shove it away. He was still _so _tired.

"Damaged is not the right word," Uncle said gently. "Your bending is different, but that does not mean it is worse. With it, you defeated Zhao and healed yourself. Is that not something?"

Zuko balked. He'd been vaguely aware that he must've healed himself, but it was different to hear Uncle speak the words so plainly. Up until that moment, it had almost felt like what he'd done had only been a product of his imagination. It was so impossible, so… so _wrong. _He couldn't have actually _done it_.

Or so his subconscious had tried to convince him.

"I really had bended like that, then," whispered Zuko. He swallowed. "I'd been hoping it was a dream."

Iroh eyed him with disproval.

"You saved your own life. Do no sound disappointed."

"No, that's not…" He swallowed. "I… I _healed myself_. Firebenders don't heal. And did you see what my fire looked like? It wasn't normal. _I'm not normal_."

Uncle shook his head. "Are you a firebender, Prince Zuko?"

"I-" A glare silenced his protests, and sulkily, he muttered, "Yes."

A smile crossed Uncle's face. "And you can heal. So obviously some firebenders _do _heal. Just not all of them." He paused, pursing his lips as he thought, then added, "Think of it as a special talent of yours."

Special talent?

More like an embarrassing weakness.

"My father would not consider it a special talent."

Iroh took a deep breath before saying slowly, "No. He likely would not. But… but perhaps he would come to accept it, if you could hone the skill. In any case, your father is not here at the moment, and think of how useful such a thing would be! Injuries are so very common at sea, and if we are going to be chasing the Avatar, it will be wonderful to have someone around who can patch up any wounds the crew receives while doing so."

There was so much wrong with that statement that Zuko wasn't even sure where to start. He spluttered indignantly for a moment, trying to get his tired brain to work, before finally settling on the most obvious issue.

"You don't even know if the healing is permanent! It… it might be a phase. Or maybe a fluke. And why do you think I can do it at will? I was half dead when it started working before!"

"The fire you were trying to attack Zhao with looked exactly the same as that which healed you," said Uncle softly. "Which is why I assume you can do it at will. However, you are right to say I do not know if it is permanent. I really know nothing about it at all. We will have to experiment, I suppose." Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but Iroh cut him off by saying, "Not just with healing, of course. There is the very legitimate possibility that your new bending is not solely restorative—perhaps, if we work out some unique forms, it can be adapted for battle as well."

Zuko couldn't argue with that. While he could recall all too well how _useless _that colorful fire had felt coming off his fingers during the first part of his battle with Zhao, he knew he had to at least attempt to work with it; if he couldn't figure out how to regain some degree of offensive bending soon, capturing the Avatar would grow that much harder… and that would be the _least _of his worries.

Because he was also sure his father would never accept him as he was.

"So I'll experiment," Zuko acquiesced. "_Maybe_ I'll learn how to heal." He curled a lip. "That doesn't mean I'd be willing to use it to help the crew."

"Prince Zuko…"

"They betrayed me!" Zuko's head spun, and he took a deep breath. Right. He was too weak to get so worked up. He paused a moment to get his bearings back, then went on, "This entire mess is _their fault_. They refuse to respect me, never listen to me… they _hate me_. And now they're afraid of me too, because they think I should be dead."

"I am going to talk with the crew about their behavior; I am sure they will treat you better in the future. It will be up to you to forgive them for the past."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I do not want them to pretend to like me because they're afraid of _you_."

Iroh smiled dottily, and Zuko had to resist the urge to slap himself on the forehead. Even knowing better, sometimes he struggled to reconcile his uncle's bumbling old man persona with the fierce general that still showed through at times. It was annoying. He never knew which, if either, were real, and often he found himself thinking that maybe Iroh actually _was _as senile as he sometimes acted.

Especially when he started grinning like an idiot in the middle of serious conversations.

"That, my nephew, is actually what I have been wishing to talk with you about," he said happily. "You see, I was not intending to threaten the crew at all. I plan to make a promise on your behalf."

"What?" Zuko blurted. "No. I don't even have to listen to it. I know it'll be ridiculous."

And he did know. His uncle had pushed him into similar conversations a dozen times before, always talking about how much good it would do for him to get to know his crew, for him to be nicer to them, and treat them better. Yelling less was one of Iroh's favorite suggestions.

But all of those things were unreasonable. Uncle could get away with his friendly behavior because he was already well-respected. Zuko wasn't. If he gave those men any leeway at all, surely they would take advantage of him. He'd heard rumors of possible mutiny on and off over the last three years, and while nothing had ever actually come up, Zuko knew the threat of his crew turning on him was very real. He couldn't loosen his grip at all—not unless he wanted superficial talk of mutiny to suddenly turn into in-depth preparation for legitimate revolt.

"Zuko… if you wish for your men to respect you, should you not respect them also?"

He snorted. That was another one of Uncle's favorite lines.

"Why should I respect them?" he demanded. "They're a bunch of lowlifes and thugs. I've seen their reports. They're here because they were kicked off their original ships, oftentimes for ineptitude or crime. Drunks, ruffians, and fools. They don't deserve my respect."

Iroh sighed. "Those reports do not always tell the whole story. Yes, a couple of your men are slightly… disreputable. But the majority are good men who had been forced to make tough decisions. Think of it this way, Prince Zuko: if a person were to hear of your banishment without knowing the details, what would they think?"

Zuko bristled. "They would think that I were a dishonorable coward who could not keep his mouth shut and had too little respect to-"

"Yes," he interrupted. "That is what they would think. But it would not be true. It is the same with your men. Look at Lieutenant Jee; his military career was dramatically stunted after he got into a fight with a superior officer while defending _my _nameafter Ba Sing Se. The report said his punishment had been due to violence towards a commanding officer… What do _you _think, Prince Zuko?"

He'd heard somewhere that Jee had served under his uncle before his retirement, but… but he hadn't known the lieutenant had damaged his reputation defending him.

Zuko shook his head.

"That's one person."

"I could give you stories for many more. I ask not that you befriend them all, but please… treat them as _people_, and not pawns to be ordered about. It would bolster their opinion of you so very much."

"Uncle…"

"In turn," he went on, "I will secure from them promises to treat you with more courtesy. It will have nothing at all to do with me; I'm sure that they will cease to uphold their end of the bargain the moment you cease to uphold yours."

Zuko exhaled and leaned his head back on his pillow. He had a feeling his uncle would not let this go, and he was too tired to argue.

"Fine. But as soon as one of them breaks the deal, I will as well. Now go… drink tea, or something. I want to go back to sleep"

"Just a moment, Zuko. There is one other thing I must discuss with you."

Of course there was.

"_What_?"

"I wish to tell the crew of your bending." Zuko started to shake his head, but Iroh kept going. "I was serious when I said I thought your healing would be beneficial to the crew, and while you may be too upset with them to consider the possibility at the moment, perhaps it is something that could be looked at in the future… Also, it would be rather difficult to hide. Unless you wish to start training only in secret—and that would only lead to rumors much worse than the truth—it would be best to simply get it out now. I will assure they keep quiet about it."

"I don't want them to know," Zuko protested weakly, trying to ignore the fact that Iroh had a point. He needed to work with his bending, and unless he was willing to take extreme measures to prevent his crew from watching him do so (and his uncle was right about the rumors that would spread in light of that), they would realize something was wrong almost immediately.

"But you know as well as anyone that what we want rarely means anything."

He sighed. "I know." A pause, and then: "Fine. Tell them. With my luck, it would get out eventually anyway."

"That's the spirit, Nephew." Iroh got to his feet. "Now, I think I'm going to take you up on your suggestion to have a cup of tea… after I talk things over with the crew. And perhaps when things have settled down, I will begin thinking of ways to work with your bending once you are up to it."

"Uh-huh."

"Good night, Zuko."

"…night."

And then he drifted off to sleep.

…

When General Iroh entered the mess hall, Jee expected his posture to be one of silent aggression. Rather than red-faced fury or bouts of screaming, loss of temper in the old man was generally marked by a suppressed wrath that even the bravest of men found terrifying. His ever-present smile would disappear, and his eyes would focus on a man's face so piercingly it felt as though he could look into his soul.

To Jee's surprise, Iroh looked more resigned than anything. The cool anger he had expected to see was entirely absent, and even the eerie detachment that'd been in his eyes when he'd hauled Zuko onto the ship earlier that day had softened into something slightly less intimidating.

From what Jee could tell, the rest of the crew was as relieved about this unexpected development as he was.

"Earlier today," said Iroh without introduction, "you betrayed your prince with what seems to have been very little pressure from Commander Zhao's men." Jee did not miss how many of the men flinched guiltily. Not because they regretted their actions, but because they regretted how easily the old general had found out about them. "Your behavior, while not entirely the cause, contributed to some degree of harm befalling my nephew."

More uneasy looks.

"But because your actions were understandable, if not honorable, you shall not be punished." Sighs of relief. "_However_, I would hope to expect more loyalty from you in the future." _He's mad if he thinks that's going to happen. Not after what happened to the prince in the South Pole. _The crew began muttering under their breaths, backing Jee's opinion.

Iroh cleared his throat, eyes flashing with annoyance, and the room fell silent immediately.

"My nephew, as you well know, can be a handful to deal with." A pause. Iroh looked somewhat uneasy for the first time Jee could remember. "Circumstances surrounding recent events have also put many of you very ill at ease. But you must understand that Prince Zuko is having a very difficult time with these happenings as well. He does not like to show weakness and so you have not seen it, but he is unsettled and confused by what has occurred. He is also _hurt _that you turned against him when he was already in a challenging situation."

Akio snorted.

"Hurt? The brat doesn't _feel_-"

Iroh whirled on him, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing. The aggressive posture he had been missing before was now chillingly present, and Jee tensed even though it was not him the general was angry with.

"Prince Zuko," he said harshly, "_feels _more strongly than anyone I have ever met, but he believes doing so makes him weak and so does his best not to show it. Do not act as though your actions do not affect him. Every ill word you utter against him piles grief upon a sixteen-year-old boy who has experienced too much of the emotion as it is."

"What does a prince know of grief?" snorted another member of the crew—Ping—skeptically.

"He knows more than I have a right to tell you without his consent," Iroh said. A deep breath, and his expression calmed somewhat. "But I feel that I must speak of his most recent troubles to at least some degree. Yes, I am aware that my nephew should likely be dead and that there were suspicious occurrences surrounding his survival. Neither Zuko or I know what happened, but I do know that he did not call upon malicious spirits, he is not possessed by malicious spirits, and he does not appreciate you treating him as though he were. Whatever has saved him, I am certain, did so not to cause those around him difficulty, but because they did not wish to see my nephew's destiny cut short."

Jee shook his head. No one cared how Zuko appreciated being treated, and they certainly were not going to believe the brat was kept around because he had a destiny to fulfill. That was wishful thinking on Iroh's part. Jee was not as superstitious as most and refused to stomach the nonsense some spoke about the prince returning from the dead to wreak havoc on his ship, but he believed that a number of the spirit rumors were more likely than Iroh's hopeful words. As much as he wanted the prince's crazy mission to end so he could return home, he was also well aware that catching the Avatar would prove impossible if their first attempt served as any indication. Zuko's so-called destiny was blindly chasing a prize he would never find, likely for the rest of his life.

There was nothing more. The kid didn't have the talent or capacity for anything more. His life's work, it seemed, was to snatch up that kid so he could go home.

Iroh seemed to sense that many of the men were having similar thoughts, because he quickly began speaking once more. "Very well. You may believe what you will on that account. I do have something that may change your mind, however; information that you must swear to keep upon this ship. If I find that you have spread rumors of what I am about to tell you, I will personally oversee your punishment. My nephew needs this to remain secret, and if you cannot find the respect to do so for him, I ask that you listen to my plea out of respect for myself."

Serious silence descended over the room. No one protested. They would most all die for Iroh and the general knew it.

"Good. Now, I am not certain whether or not you have heard, but my nephew recently engaged Commander Zhao in an Agni Kai-" Several of the crew couldn't manage to contain skeptical laughter, and even Jee raised a brow at the notion. Zuko was good, but against a master? He wouldn't have stood a chance.

Laughter was not the right response. Iroh stomped his foot loudly on the floor beneath him, and the displeasure on his face prompted the men to quiet themselves.

"After it started, Zuko realized his bending had been altered by his recent experiences." Iroh took a shaky breath, eyes haunted. "It did not work properly. He could only bend the barest amount of an odd, harmless type of flame. But he refused to back out of the challenge."

Jee almost choked on his breath.

Agni. No wonder Iroh looked so upset.

"He evaded Zhao's attacks for a fair amount of time, but was eventually hit. Zhao showed no mercy after. My nephew was knocked to the ground and burned, and he became quite… upset after Zhao took it upon himself to mimic the move the Fire Lord used to give Zuko his scar, and hit him exactly as had happened the first time-"

"_What?!" _

Taro's blurted response was gratingly loud against Iroh's low, steady voice, but the exclamation only mirrored a similar one that was running through Jee's head.

_Did he just… did he just say _the Fire Lord _gave him that scar? His _father?

Jee gaped at the former general. That was… that would have been just under three years ago.

When Zuko was _thirteen. _

"The Fire Lord couldn't have done that," said Akio.

"I thought it was a training accident," the helmsman, Ichiro, muttered, echoing Jee's own assumptions. "It had to have been-"

Iroh cleared his throat and seemed somehow to look each of them in the eye all at once. Something horrifying was reflected in his features, and Jee found himself unable to help but look away.

"It was not an accident." He sighed. "His father is the one who gave him that scar, but this is not the time, nor the place for the story. There is too much other information to be absorbed, and… I do not think Zuko would want me to give you another reason to talk about him at just this moment. Please…if you could focus." The muttering died down, the room obviously unsatisfied, but Iroh pretended not to notice the discontent and plowed forward with his tale.

"After Zhao hit Zuko, my nephew crumpled to the ground... I thought Zhao was going to kill him. He certainly intended to do so. It was only as he moved to deal the final blow that Zuko managed to utilize his bending in order to protect himself. Except it was not natural bending. The flames that erupted from his hands were… several different colors, and instead of disrupting Zhao, they first surrounded Zuko. I was worried for a short time, but soon it became apparent that the fire was _healing him_." More disbelieving murmurs broke out amongst the majority of the men, but Jee stared forward in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. It made sense though, if Iroh was telling the truth about the rest of the Agni Kai. Jee had seen the boy as the former general was hauling him back onto the ship; he'd been unconscious, but not burned in the least.

"After-" Iroh paused, and once the crew recognized he meant to begin talking again, they instantly fell silent. "After he was healed, the fire then went on to engulf Zhao. It did not burn him, but he was somehow knocked unconscious. Zuko was tired, but he maintained enough control to exit the arena victorious. He is attempting to rest off the exertion now."

"You… you can't heal with firebending."

"Zuko beat _Zhao_?"

"That's impossible!"

"He really is a freak-"

"_That's enough!" _

Silence fell immediately, and Iroh took a step forward as if to assert his control over the room.

"I have told you what I saw. I do not know what happened, nor do I know if the change is permanent. If it is, Zuko's offensive and defensive bending will be dramatically weakened, and I warn you to say nothing about it. I also ask you to silence your theories on why this has occurred. If we ever become privy to such information, it will be through supernatural revelation, not hurtful theories. Finally, Zuko is struggling very much with this new development. I warn you to make it no more difficult on him than necessary."

Silence. Then Akio had to add, "Why should we care? He makes _everything _difficult for us."

"I talked to him about improving his attitude. He promised he would attempt to treat you with more courtesy should you attempt the same towards him. If you break the agreement, he has already promised to go back on his half; the same goes for you—the arrangement is void as soon as he behaves badly towards you. Please try, however. Difficult times are ahead. It will not do for us to make things harder on ourselves."

"General Iroh," said Ichiro, before anyone else had a chance to speak. "Is continuing the mission even worth it? Without his bending, will Zuko be able to capture the Avatar?"

"Will his father allow him home even if he could?" added Taro. "Somehow I doubt the Fire Nation would want a 'healing firebender' on the throne, no matter if the kid brings home a hundred Avatars."

Iroh sighed.

"I cannot answer either question… I really cannot. Let us simply continue as we have been and see where fate takes us. Will you all be able to accept that?"

There was some grumbling, more muttered questions, some pertaining to Zuko's scar and even more revolving around his altered bending, but Iroh refused to answer until every man in the room reluctantly nodded their assent.

"Good." For the first time since the conversation began, he broke into his ridiculous smile. "Now, if you do not mind, I am very much in need of a cup of tea. I will see you all for supper."

Then he wandered off, leaving the men to discuss everything they had just heard.

…

Iroh was fascinated.

Zuko had come to him directly after waking up and demanded to work on his firebending. Knowing that they first needed to determine what, exactly, had become of his abilities, Iroh insisted that his nephew first conjure a small flame.

It was beautiful.

"Do not put it out," said Iroh sternly, after seeing the look of disgust on Zuko's face. His nephew gritted his teeth, but kept the fire going. Iroh leaned forward to examine the colors more closely, his nose almost brushing the warmth of the soft flame. Even the fire's construction was different than normal; it lapped gently at the air… _curiously_, almost, as though feeling for a taste of its surroundings. There was none of the hunger that typically characterized fire.

Unable to help himself, Iroh reached out to touch it, ready to dissipate the heat should he need to. To his surprise, however, it was warm to touch. Upon making contact with his skin, the flames curled around his fingers, and Iroh could feel a light stream of energy flowing into him. After a moment, a lick of flame ghosted over a small patch of skin that was still raw from the ropes that had been used to haul he and Zuko back to the ship after _the incident. _Iroh's eyes widened, and he watched on giddily as the fire gathered to the area and seeped through into his skin. The influx of energy became more tangible, and-

Zuko squeezed his fist shut and looked at him with revulsion.

Iroh smiled and held up his partially healed arm.

"Look what you did nephew! Isn't it magnificent-"

"I'm not one of your interesting trinkets, Uncle!" He conjured a flame again, waving it in front of Iroh's face. "_This _is not a good thing. It means I'm not a proper firebender. It means my father _will never let me come home _if I can't fix it."

"Zuko… we discussed this. This is not the end of all hope." Zuko opened his mouth to protest. "We will experiment and determine how to best utilize your new abilities; however, that also includes coming to terms with what has happened."

"Until I can bend respectably again," spat Zuko, "I will _never _come to terms with this."

Iroh took a deep breath, collecting his patience. He reminded himself that this was very difficult for his nephew, and that Zuko was not yet in a place where he could truly appreciate his gift. Even so, Iroh was frustrated by the disgust that such an amazing ability was being treated with. Zuko had been given the _gift of healing_, and he was acting as though he'd lost everything.

It was Ozai's doing, Iroh knew, and yet he could not help but find himself a small bit frustrated with his nephew's stubbornness. The boy refused to see the good right in front of his face because he was so convinced that only his father knew what was best for him.

How he hoped Zuko would grow out of that belief before it was too late.

"Maybe a compromise," Iroh suggested diplomatically. "For half of your training period, we will work with a variety of forms in an attempt to facilitate some sort of offensive bending. For the other half… you will do work with healing. The spirits have given you this gift for a reason, Zuko, and it would do you well not to waste it. I believe it would be prudent not only to experiment with this new fire of yours, but also to go over basic aspects of the healing arts. Doing so will allow you to utilize your abilities more effectively when needed, and also to spare energy in cases where wounds can be treated through other methods. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Uncle!" Zuko cried, horrified. "I can't… you can't make me train as a _healer_."

"No," said Iroh calmly. "I cannot. But I can heavily encourage it."

"But- healers are _weak." _

He shook his head. "Warriors are proficient in taking lives. Healers excel in saving them." A dramatic pause. "Which do you think is more honorable?"

Zuko opened his mouth, then clamped it shut, staring at Uncle like he'd just spoken complete and utter ridiculousness and somehow managed to make it sound sensible. Of course, in his nephew's eyes, that was likely exactly what he had done.

"But the Fire Nation-"

_Don't you think that should possibly tell you something about the current state of our people? _

Iroh refrained from saying the words. "Our people are at war now, Zuko. They have been for nearly a hundred years. Their focus is on takeover, and so abilities that facilitate conquest are lauded while those that encourage peace and renewal are frowned upon. It does not mean one is worse than the other; simply that, as things are now, the nation's perspective is not entirely objective."

A beat of silence passed, and then Zuko said, "That… that makes sense." He swallowed, looking resigned. "I will work on… I will practice healing." His eyes narrowed. "But only until my bending starts working properly."

Iroh sighed.

It was good enough.

"Wonderful! For the next hour, you will find Private Akio and ask him to begin showing you the fundamentals of healing."

"_What!?" _

"I will see you in one hour. _Then _we will work on the other aspects of your training."

Then Iroh walked off, leaving his nephew gaping after him.

…

Akio was by no means a proper doctor. Nor could he be considered anything of a healer. He had simply gone through a crash course in field medicine and taken to it rather well; his affinity had become apparent to the crew once he'd taken it upon himself to heal the minor injuries that started popping up over the course of their time at sea. After some months, it had become a common fact that if you were hurt or sick, you found Akio. Iroh had even given him free reign of the sick bay, going so far as to restock the room with fresh supplies and a wide variety of scrolls that covered everything from the proper way to treat a cough, to different methods of wrapping sprained or broken limbs.

Akio had long since memorized the contents of each one; not out of necessity, but because there was little to do on the ship, and he was genuinely interested in learning more about healing. He was aware that some of the men had initially viewed his devotion to the practice as downright pitiful, but he gradually regained respect as it became more and more apparent how needed his efforts were.

The only person onboard who had not grown to hold him in at least some degree of esteem, Akio knew, was Prince Zuko.

Which was precisely why he was so surprised to see the boy hovering in front of the sick bay for no obvious reason, his face twisted with annoyance and his posture stiff and uninviting.

Frowning slightly, Akio halted in his preparation of what was supposed to be a headache solution. He wasn't sure if it would work—it was entirely experimental—but the effort would be worth it if his concoction could dull the throbbing pain that always followed encounters with the prince... or the occasional hangover. But Akio found it more amusing to think of his efforts as going towards a cure for the first issue.

Speaking of which, it looked as though he were going to need some of his own medicine _very _soon.

"Can I help you, your majesty?" asked Akio, speaking the last words mockingly. If Zuko was a proper prince, then he was a bright pink flying bison with scales.

Zuko was either too stupid to catch the slight or too annoyed to bother reacting to it. Probably the latter. Much as Akio hated to admit it, the kid wasn't an idiot. Just a brat.

"Private," he said stiffly. He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was slightly more polite. "As part of my training, I am to learn about… about _healing._"

Akio's eyes widened for a moment before the situation clicked. Ha. Iroh hadn't been lying when he said the prince had promised to try treating them better—his effort at using a polite tone was evidence of that—and apparently the old general had been telling the truth about the brat gaining the ability to heal with his bending as well.

And now Iroh wanted the kid to embrace his new talent.

Zuko looked about as happy about that as Akio would have expected him to be.

"And I suppose General Iroh suggested you come to _me _for help?"

The prince nodded stiffly.

_Of course. _

Akio sighed. He couldn't tell the kid no without getting on the general's bad side… well, and without breaking the agreement the crew had made to treat him more decently. If Zuko was going to make an effort to tone down his bitchiness, Akio sure as hell wasn't going to do anything that could shorten the crew's reprieve.

Not unless the prince turned out to be an even bigger nightmare to work with than Akio expected.

"Wonderful." He clapped his hands together in mock excitement. "And I suppose he wants you to learn this so you can augment your…" He made a vague bending gesture. He wasn't a bender and only had a minimal understand of how firebending worked. Couldn't understand how it could be used to _heal_. But he wouldn't doubt Iroh's word on it.

"My firebending," Zuko finished, sticking his nose in the air defensively. Daring Akio to protest.

Damn, that kid needed to relax.

"Don't look so testy. I can't bend at all—hardly have any right to make fun of you 'cause yours got messed up. I just wanted to make sure." He peered at Zuko inquisitively. "Now I suppose we should start simple. I've read that waterbenders use bending to heal- _dammit_, don't get so pissy. Not comparing you to them. I'm trying to make a point." Zuko glared sulkily, but he didn't look half so mutinous as he had when the word 'waterbender' came out of Akio's mouth. Taking that as a sign to continue, the private went on, "What I was _trying _to say is that waterbenders heal by manipulating chi. I doubt yours works exactly like that, but the concept is likely similar."

"So?" demanded Zuko.

"So that means if you'll be using your bending for this, you'd do well to figure out where all the chi paths are." He turned from Zuko and walked over to one of his shelves, looking through the assortment of scrolls before he picked up one that he'd bought at a port village a few months back—the one that had talked about waterbenders and healing. "I could tell you, but that would be a waste of time. There are diagrams in this—some stuff about healing bending too. Probably should take a look at that as well."

Zuko eyed him with annoyance.

"What makes you think I have _time _to read?"

"What makes you think I have _time _to teach you?" Akio shot back.

"No one's making you."

He snorted. "I respect your uncle too much to outright deny you when this was his idea." He made a face. "Besides, we agreed to all play nice with each other, didn't we? Denying you a request simply because I'd rather not deal with your moody glares when I'm off duty would hardly be a good start." He waited to see if the prince would say anything, but the reminder of the deal had at least got him to shut his mouth. "Nice to know we understand each other. Now, moving on: there's a lot of crap that tinkering with chi probably won't fix. Probably a lot of little things you won't want to use your bending to heal anyway. That type of stuff is what we'll focus on for now."

He eyed Zuko to make sure the kid was listening; he seemed to be. Was even keeping his mouth shut.

Thank Agni for small favors.

"Let's start with basic physiology. Bones are somewhat important, but internal stuff—that's what you really have to know about." He returned to the shelf and grabbed another scroll. It was weird, giving the brat homework. Made him remember that if Zuko hadn't been banished, he'd probably be at some high end academy or another. Certainly not learning healing, but attending classes, studying for exams.

Damn. That was hard to imagine.

A little eerie too. He didn't like thinking of the boy as a kid. It made his circumstances more pitiable, and Akio certainly knew the brat didn't deserve anyone's pity.

_Then again, Iroh said the Fire Lord had given him that scar. His own father…_

He shook off the thought. Whatever happened, Zuko had probably deserved it. Not sure what could warrant something like that—_nothing, nothing could make it right for a parent to do that to their child_—but he figured the prince had it coming.

He pushed the thoughts aside and returned his focus to the present.

"Look over this too. There are drawings—some pretty detailed sketches of bones, organs, muscles—all that stuff. Probably should memorize those eventually, but the chi paths are more important given your… abilities."

Zuko flinched at the mention of his healing bending. Not that Akio blamed him for that one. He didn't know much about the Fire Lord, but he was pretty certain a freak in the family wasn't something that would be tolerated. Iroh's warning to the crew the night before only confirmed that; if Zuko's newfound talent got out, he'd be in deep shit.

"Is that all?"

Akio snorted.

"Hell no. That's what it'd be quicker for you to read. There's other stuff it'd be best to show you. How much time do you got?"

"An hour."

Damn. Akio had been hoping for maybe a quarter of that.

He smiled bitterly. "Marvelous… I guess we've got plenty of time to go over herbal treatments then." He gestured for Zuko to follow him to the table where he'd been working on his headache cure. "Ignore that-"

"What is it?"

Akio glanced back at the prince. He looked genuinely curious. Not like he was asking specifically because he'd been told not to, but because he actually wanted to know.

That surprised Akio enough that he found himself answering Zuko's question.

"It's supposed to cure headaches. Remember that village we stopped at a few weeks back, the one in the southern Earth Kingdom with the enormous waterfalls just outside it?" Zuko nodded. "There was a vendor there selling something similar. One of the men bought it, and the concoction worked like a charm. He gave me the last bit to examine, asked me to try recreating it. I've got it mostly right I think, made a few adjustments based on available ingredients and stuff that might work better. That right there probably isn't perfect yet, but it's close."

Zuko leaned forward, examining the mixture closely. "How did you know what was in the original? If it's all mixed together…"

"Smell is a big indicator. There are ways to isolate ingredients too, even tests that show whether or not something's in there. It's a lengthy process that requires a lot of guessing." He smirked. "Common sense is involved too. There are staples used in certain medicines—specific plants that are especially good for headaches, or stomach aches, drawing out infection… whatever. It isn't difficult to figure out what _has _to be in something."

The prince frowned contemplatively for a moment, then asked, "How do you know all this?"

"I've had a bit of field training. Done a lot of experimenting, picked some stuff up traveling or reading. Some is just instinct." He waited for Zuko to condemn him—say something about his lack of real education, but the prince only nodded, evidently accepting the answer. Akio balked, but quickly shook off his surprise. "Um, right. You don't have to worry about that kind of thing anyhow—not unless you want to when you're further along. For now, we can focus on more basic stuff." He picked up a scroll that he'd been looking over earlier. "I won't make you take this with you, but there're some things that'd be good to go over—lists of plants and herbs that help treat illness and minor infections… quite a few useful teas as well." He couldn't help himself. "Most of them taste awful. If I were you, I'd sneak one to your uncle sometime—might finally get him to shut about about how great the stuff is.

Akio flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth, sure the prince was going to eat him alive for what the kid would undoubtedly see as a show of disrespect. Never mind that Akio had been joking and would die ten times over for Iroh—Zuko couldn't take a joke to save his life, and-

_Is he smiling_?

Akio tried not to gape at the slight upturn of the prince's lips. The smile only lasted for a second, really was gone so quickly that Akio wasn't even sure it'd ever been there in the first place, but…

But he was _sure _Zuko really had smiled.

"As if _that _could ever happen," the prince muttered, not looking at all as though he'd just done something totally impossible.

"Right." Akio cleared his throat. "So… the plants in the first column are good for knocking someone out…"

Zuko nodded with interest as Akio continued on, going over the appearance and properties of the specific plants and describing in detail how to prepare each one. Apart from a few mutters about how ridiculous it was that Iroh wanted him to learn 'this crap,' he was quiet and undoubtedly attentive.

Certainly more interested than Akio ever would have expected.

In fact, it wasn't until Iroh knocked on the door to the sick bay that Akio realized he'd actually overextended the prince's session.

By the surprise on Zuko's face, the kid was clearly just as shocked.

"Nephew, you were supposed to meet me on deck ten minutes ago-"

"I…" Zuko shook his head and scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry, Uncle. We were… I was…"

_I was actually enjoying myself and lost track of time. _Akio could see moment the prince recognized that fact, saw the words form in his eyes even though he would never allow them to fall from his tongue.

"I forgot."

"See to it that it doesn't happen again," said Iroh, but he was smiling. Eyes gleaming, he looked to Akio. "And my nephew did not give you any trouble?"

To his surprise, Akio wasn't lying when he shook his head. "None at all."

"Very good. Now come, Zuko. Let us see what we can do about your bending."

"Right… my bending." He looked to Akio and fidgeted awkwardly. "Could we maybe…"

"You train every day?" he cut in, trying not to cringe as he did so. _What in the hell am I doing? _

Zuko nodded uneasily.

"That means you'll be here again tomorrow?"

"If- if that's acceptable?"

_I cannot believe I'm agreeing to waste my off time on __**this**__. _

"I think I can tolerate you for an hour a day. Meet me down here, same time. And look over those scrolls if you can."

"Right."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Then Zuko bowed his head.

"…thank you."

Zuko left before Akio could reply, but to himself, he muttered, "Can't believe I'm saying it, but I think I might've underestimated that kid."

Akio had no idea why, but he blushed beet red afterwards, embarrassingly sure that the prince had somehow heard him.

…

…

Author's Note:

Wow. Over eight-thousand words that time around. I really didn't realize how long these chapters were until this one came out. Are the huge chapters okay with you guys, or would you rather I break them up more? I mean, it isn't a big deal either way—I'm just kind of curious.

Moving on... a_ lot _of stuff was introduced in this chapter. It was the first we've heard from the Gaang since the South Pole. Then there's the interactions between Iroh and the crew, and Zuko realizing his bending's switched up, and then Zuko and Akio. How IC do y'all think it was? And what are your thoughts on my OC? Not a huge fan of sticking in my own characters, but it was necessary here; hopefully his presence wasn't too oppressive. I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything. You've been great at leaving really detailed reviews so far—thank you for that, by the way—and it would be great if you'd keep that up. It really helps me make this into the most solid story I can.

One more thing: a lot of people commented on the logistics of Zuko's bending; I did reply a little bit to those people, but I can't reveal too many details and I won't offer any specific information here either. I will say that I have it all thought out, and that it makes sense to me, even keeping in mind everything we know about the dragons and firebenders in the series. Anything more than that could be constituted as a spoiler, so hopefully that'll hold you over.

Thanks again, and I'll have another chapter up sometime next week.


	4. A Diverging Path

Ch.4: A Diverging Path

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Zuko closed his eyes as he focused on creating a consistent healing flame, hands hovering only a few inches from Akio's body. It'd taken a few days, but he'd gotten through the first scroll and memorized the chi paths to the best of his ability. As soon as Zuko told him of the development, Akio insisted that he put his knowledge to practical use. He thought it a would be good idea for Zuko to see and feel what the energy was really like.

Naturally, finding someone else's chi was easier said than done. While Zuko could feel his flames reacting to _something _underneath Akio's skin, it was difficult to tell what, exactly, was pulling at them.

A little more focus though, especially on the points where he knew chi to concentrate the most heavily, and he could almost make the out little streams of energy. He attempted to broaden his view, to see the whole system of chi paths like he'd seen drawn out on the scroll, but he lost the feel for the pathways as soon as he tried to expand his focus.

Hissing in frustration, Zuko pulled back his hands and stepped back sharply.

"No luck?" said Akio, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"I saw _something _for a moment," muttered Zuko irritably, "but I couldn't visualize everything all together."

Akio was evidently unconcerned by this. "Eh." He waved a hand dismissively. "You're already the most talented firebending healer in the world, so I wouldn't be overly anxious."

Zuko only shook his head, having gotten somewhat used to the ribbing over the past few days. It seemed that after he started showing a genuine interest in what Akio had to say—despite the continued uneasiness he felt at knowing what his father would think of his lessons—the pseudo-healer had lost a good deal of his animosity towards Zuko, replacing the harsh insults he'd once whispered behind his back with relatively harmless teasing.

Zuko allowed himself to show Akio a small degree of respect in return. He even acknowledged that his improved behavior wasn't _entirely _because of his talk with Uncle; rather, Zuko honestly didn't mind his lessons. The things Akio taught were useful, and he picked them up quickly. Something about the art of healing had piqued his interest, and that rendered Zuko more open to the idea of letting his guard down around his teacher, even if it was only enough to make working with the man tolerable.

"I feel like I should be able to see all of them though," said Zuko, about the chi paths. "I mean, they were right there, but so… blurry, I guess." He frowned. "Maybe I'm not good enough with my new bending yet. I still can't maintain it for very long."

Akio smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm afraid that's something you'd need to ask your uncle about. I sure as hell don't know… But really—was that at least somewhat useful?"

Zuko frowned as he chewed over the question.

"I think so. That scroll you gave me… it discussed how waterbenders manipulate chi to heal—how they shift it… and kind of improve its flow, I guess. But when my fire brushed against yours, it didn't move; I don't think I could have moved it. It was more like… like the energy from my fire was draining into your chi paths."

"Makes sense," said Akio. "Obviously waterbending isn't anything like firebending; it's just moving stuff that's already there. But look at fire. Energy from the sun is what fuels life, and I imagine that's probably how your healing works—it infuses life into a person's body. Actually, making assumptions based on the nature of fire... I'd almost guess you clear out old, damaged chi too; like a forest fire burning dead trees so new ones can grow."

The first part made sense. And the second was logical, but…

"I don't know. I…" He hesitated, not wanting to bring it up. After a moment, however, he recognized that he was too interested in hearing Akio's opinion to simply let it go. Slowly, he went on, "When I was fighting Zhao, he… he burnt me over my scar. And when I healed myself after, the fire lingered there for a moment, but it couldn't fix it. If my healing could clear out damaged chi, wouldn't it have done _something_?"

Akio seemed to think that over for a second, and Zuko was relieved when he didn't so much as blink at the mention of his scar. He hated calling attention to the thing, but doing so was certainly easier when a big deal wasn't made out of it.

"Possibly…" said Akio. "But I would almost bet it's more likely that there simply wasn't any chi left—that it wasn't just damaged when you got that scar, but completely decimated. Can't get rid of the undergrowth if the forest has already been razed." He shrugged. "Just an idea."

A good one too. And he liked that Akio's theory about clearing out old chi hadn't been disproved. Somehow he thought that sounded preferable to what waterbenders did. Getting rid of bad stuff and replacing it with good, in his opinion, was a lot sounder than simply mixing everything up and hoping it started flowing better.

Then again, he recognized that there were probably benefits to each, probably specific areas in which waterbending would work better. He also imagined it would take less effort to heal someone when it didn't involve transferring his own energy into them.

Still. If he and Akio were right about how his bending worked, it would be more aggressive than healing with water.

Somehow that made him feel like more of a true firebender.

"So…" Akio was saying. "Did you want to spend more time on that, or move on to something else?"

"Move on," said Zuko. "I want to talk to Uncle about strengthening the fire before we do anything else with chi." He thought about how those lessons would probably take away from his practice with his other bending, but as the latter had produced absolutely _nothing _so far, the tragedy wasn't too great.

Much as he hated to admit it, Zuko had been getting more out of his healing training than his work with Uncle, and he knew it. He had a gut feeling that his old fire wasn't coming back anytime soon, and the new stuff still refused to listen to him. Oddly enough, he almost found that _okay_. The more he chewed over Uncle's words about how healing saved lives and normal fire took them… well, he almost wondered if what'd happened to him wasn't so bad as he'd originally thought.

If he weren't so worried about what his father would think—about what the Fire Nation would think—he would almost say he was glad the South Pole had happened.

He was good at healing. He made fast _progress _with healing, and through the _willing _help of one of his men. For three years he'd felt so hopeless, so _stagnant, _working and struggling but never making any noticeable leaps or bounds in his training. Now he had this new talent he was actually decent at right off the bat, and well… it was a nice change, if he could look past the outside consequences.

"Fine with me," said Akio, reclaiming Zuko's attention. "I was thinking we could go over illnesses next. Not so sure your bending could help with those, and anyway, sickness is probably the most common thing you'll run across on the ship. What you really have to look for is-"

He was cut off by the opening of the door.

Lieutenant Jee stood in the doorway, eyeing Zuko and Akio oddly. Even though Zuko had attempted to follow his uncle's advice and behave more respectably to the crew, his efforts hadn't accomplished much—although Zuko would be the first to admit he'd been too busy balancing his new training regimen with his efforts to make sense of the Avatar's ridiculous flight patterns to really interact with his men at all.

Which was probably why Jee thought it so weird he and Akio were in the same room with so little tension between them. Zuko hadn't been around enough for them to be aware of any tangible attitude change taking place.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" asked Zuko, doing his best not to sound annoyed at being interrupted. He remembered his Uncle's story of how Jee had ended up on his ship, and that would have prompted him to treat the older man with due courtesy even if he hadn't promised Uncle to censor his behavior.

"We've finally tracked the Avatar," said Jee. Zuko leapt instinctively to his feet, the word 'Avatar' prompting him into action. "He is on Kyoshi Island."

Zuko opened his mouth to grill Jee for further information, but slowly shut it only a moment later.

The Avatar may or may not have killed him the last time they'd met. Even if he hadn't, his failure certainly hadn't been for want of trying.

This time around, Zuko wouldn't even have his normal bending with which to defend himself. Nor would he have it to make any offensive moves.

But most concerning was that, if, by some miracle, he did capture the Avatar, Zuko would go home to his father, where the Fire Lord would learn what had become of his bending—would learn that he'd died and come back _wrong_—and would probably banish him all over again. Would at least keep him safely out of the public eye—his healing training would certainly be stopped, his claim to the throne snatched away, and the entire nation turned against him.

…but he would be home. His father would love him again—at least momentarily. His honor would be restored for as long as it took for his secret to come out.

Agni. The notion sounded pitiful, even to his own ears.

Would bothering with this really be worth the effort?

_Of course it's worth it. Because if I don't bother, that's it. I'm banished forever. I'll make this work. I have to. I can't just stop trying. _

_I can't give up hope. _

_Not yet. _

_Because if I stop chasing the Avatar, what will I have left? _

Zuko took a deep breath and tried to look more confident in his decision than he felt.

"Then I suppose we're headed for Kyoshi," he said, cringing at how _resigned _he sounded. He knew the other men could hear it in his voice.

"Sir?" Zuko turned at the sound of Akio's voice. The other man looked him right in the eye. "You're worried your father won't want you back. Because you can't bend 'properly.'"

Zuko nodded stiffly, finding himself unable to lie.

Akio frowned.

"If that's true, and forgive me for saying so, but you're better off out here. Any idiot could see you like this healing stuff, and any good father would be _proud of you _for being so damn good at it." A pause, but then he added, "If you manage to get the Avatar and the Fire Lord still doesn't accept you, remember that you've still got a home on your ship. Nothing compared to what you're used to, I'm sure, but at least you'd get to heal as much as you fucking want."

Jee started coughing. Zuko's eyes widened.

"But…" He shook his head. Akio was underestimating his father—his words, they were coming from someone without a drop of royal blood. He couldn't understand the pressure the Fire Lord was under to do what was best for the nation. He- he would… would have no choice but to get rid of Zuko when he realized his own son was an abomination. It wouldn't—_couldn't—_have anything to do with his own personal feelings; had no bearing on whether or not he was a good father.

It would be his _duty _to send Zuko away.

Still… Akio's words had been honest enough, and even if Zuko wasn't willing to believe them, to believe he would be better off away from his home and away from his father, the sentiment was nice, and that last part, about having a home if he were to be banished again-

That last part made him terribly in danger of doing something stupid and emotional.

Dammit. He was being ridiculous. He had to restore an appropriate level of detachment to the conversation.

"My father is in a position where he doesn't have the liberty to be as forgiving as most," said Zuko coolly. There. That was logical. Now he could forget what Akio said and-

The other man _snorted_, and in a a somewhat mocking tone of voice, he said, "And here I've always been under the impression the Fire Lord can do whatever the hell he wants." Zuko started to protest, but Akio sighed and shook his head. "No—forget I opened my fat, _disrespectful_ mouth. What you've got to do right now is capture that damn Avatar. No use worrying about anything until you've got him."

"Right." Zuko took a deep breath, then turned to Jee, who'd been watching the exchange with interest. "When, exactly, was he last sighted?"

"Only a day ago, and he showed no signs of leaving soon. We should catch up easily."

Zuko exhaled.

"Perfect." He paused, remembering the deal he'd made with Uncle. "Uh, you did good in informing me, Lieutenant. Thank you. I- I'm going to go draw up a plan of attack."

He then left the sick bay, but the questions brought on by Akio's words trailed after him.

Most especially the last bit.

Because while Zuko was sure the first part—the stuff about a good father being proud of him—was utter ridiculousness, reserved for the lower classes if anyone at all, that last thing Akio had said, about the Fire Lord being able to do whatever he wanted… that part had been true.

Of course, Ozai was a good leader, would want to set a good example and act as he would expect his own people to act, but… he was also the one who decided what kind of example it was he wanted to set.

Which meant Ozai had been acting under obligations _he himself had made up _when he scarred and banished Zuko.

But really, that wasn't a new revelation. Zuko had always known on some level that it had to have been the case. And anyway_, it was a good thing_ Ozai hadn't changed his standards because of an inconveniently incompetent son. He'd stuck with the principles he believed in, even when it was surely difficult for him to do so.

His father had done what he did because it was what a strong ruler would do. Because Zuko had acted in a way that was dishonorable to his nation and needed to be punished. He'd even tried to help Zuko in the process—had given him a task that would make him stronger, that would teach him the skills needed to be Fire Lord. Ozai had said so himself, had said that everything that had happened and was happening was for Zuko's own good.

And since his father had said it, it had to be true.

Zuko was sure of it.

Somewhat settled by that conclusion, Zuko picked up his pace as he began thinking over preparations his crew needed to make and directions he wanted to give them. Everything would have to be perfect, he knew. He didn't have his offensive bending, and he wasn't confident he could control his flames well enough to be much use defensively either.

Then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. After so many years of dealing with Azula, he'd gotten to the point where he was almost more comfortable fighting from a disadvantage.

…and maybe, just maybe, he was glad had didn't have a very good chance at capturing the Avatar.

Because that meant he could push off his worries about what would happen should he return home for just a little bit longer.

…

"I want the Avatar alive," Zuko announced as he and three of his men descended from the ship's walkway, mounted atop komodo rhinos. The dagger his uncle had given him was attached to his belt, available for use if needed. He'd been tempted to take his dao swords as well, but the idea of doing so put him on edge. Not only would the blades' presence possibly draw attention to his lack of bending, but he also didn't feel comfortable broadcasting his proficiency with the weapons. He wasn't even sure Uncle knew the extent to which he'd trained with them, and having such an unexpected ability could come in handy sometime in the future.

He wanted to retain that element of surprise. Especially when there was a good chance his search for the Avatar might continue on past this point.

"You recognize that my bending will be limited," Zuko said as they rode. "That does _not _mean I want you interfering unnecessarily." He thought back to his last meeting with the boy—glowing blue eyes, the roaring column of water… remembered the impact of the whip, getting tossed into the sea… the suffocating darkness and screaming of his lungs and painful cold. A deep breath, and then: "This is still my fight. I'm the one who captures him…" _I'm the one who gets hurt if I fail. _

"Yes, sir."

"And keep the island's people out of it. Kyoshi is neutral. I don't want to push them to fight against the Fire Nation; my father has enough enemies as it is."

"Of course."

Satisfied, Zuko clutched the reins of his rhino a little more tightly and urged it forward once more. Silence descended upon the men until they reached the entrance of the village, marked by a large statue of Avatar Kyoshi. He could taste the smell of new paint—it seemed the Avatar's coming had been a rather celebrated event, at least enough so that someone had given the monument a touchup.

How sickening.

Even more so because now, in the face of a threat, it seemed the boy was nowhere to be found. Indeed, as Zuko looked over the streets of the village more closely, there were very few people in sight at all. He could hear the murmuring of several villagers clustered close to the houses, could sense presences attempting to hide behind buildings and merchant stalls, but no sign of the Avatar.

His lip curled.

"Come out, Avatar! You can't hide from me forever!"

Nothing.

Zuko looked to his men.

"Find him."

Zuko lingered back with the intention of examining the village more closely as a whole—to see if he couldn't pick out anything suspicious from a broader vantage point, but his plans were cut short as a swarm of girls attacked seemingly from out of nowhere—he couldn't help but be grudgingly impressed that they'd escaped even his keen hearing—and ambushed his men, knocking several from the rhinos and engaging into battle with those left on their saddles.

One of the girls dashed pashed the others, heading straight for him at an admirable speed. Zuko gritted his teeth—he normally would have _bended _by that point—and forced himself to wait until she jumped at him. Then, at the last second, he yanked the reins of his komodo rhino and the animal whipped the girl with its tail.

He exhaled sharply as she landed on the ground with an ugly _thud_. For a moment Zuko hesitated, loathe to leave her there—she wasn't injured enough to be out of the fight, not unless she was a good deal less impressive than she appeared—but there was nothing else he could do. Not short of getting off his rhino and knocking her out by hand.

Annoyed and frustrated, he made to head forward-

Only to hear the sound of footsteps pattering off the roof behind him.

He threw himself off the rhino just seconds before one of the warriors would have landed on top of him, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet in one smooth motion. Despite his quickness, he found himself surrounded within moments. Two of the female warriors, and…

"_Zuko! _You were-_" _

_Why is the Water Tribe boy wearing a dress- _

One of the warriors lunged at him, cutting off the unfinished thought. Zuko quickly dodged the strike, then ducked low to avoid being hit by the fan of one of the others. Without breaking rhythm, he lowered himself to the floor and kicked the feet out from underneath the first girl. A fist slammed into his shoulder as he spun out of the kick, but the blow glanced off his armor.

Zuko smirked as he heard the water tribe boy curse and made to shake out his hand. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zuko reached out and grabbed the boy's arm, then whipped him around in a full circle before launching him straight into the final girl.

Both slammed into a nearby house, landing on top of each other in a jumble of limbs.

"And yes," said Zuko triumphantly, glaring down at the slightly younger boy. His eyes were still open, but it was obvious he'd hit his head hard enough to be slightly dazed. "I _was _dead… and now I'm not." At the horror on the other boy's face, his smirk broadened with an air of superiority he didn't quite feel; as much as he was making it sound like he was simply unable to be killed, he knew very well that whatever had happened was a fluke that had nothing to do with him—hell, he didn't even know if he'd really died in the first place, or if he'd simply fallen unconscious.

"What… what _are _you?" the boy managed to slur.

Zuko quickly strode away and pretended not to hear because he had no idea how he could possibly answer that question. It honestly shook him up for a moment before he managed to shrug it off—he'd think about that later. He had a mission to complete.

"Nice try Avatar," he said loudly, hoping his voice carried to wherever the coward was hiding—hoping his taunting would lure the boy into the streets. "But these little girls can't save you."

A moment later, his ears just barely managed to pick up the sound of feather-light footsteps. He turned to face the Avatar right as the boy called, "Hey! Over here!"

The monk was standing tall in the middle of the street, dressed in the same traditional airbender clothing he'd been wearing the last time they faced off. His staff was extended in front of him in a manner Zuko found vaguely threatening, and his posture _reeked _of confidence. If he felt any discontentment at Zuko being alive—if he _cared _in the least that he'd killed him—the boy didn't show it at all.

Zuko would _never _admit it, but in that instant, he wanted nothing more than to back down and run away. All he could think of were freezing polar waters—of suffocating and despair and the surefire knowledge that _he was going to die. _

But he needed this—needed the Avatar—and so Zuko pushed those thoughts back and faced the boy with what he hoped was a composed expression.

"So you finally decided to show up."

"Don't sound so proud of yourself," said the Avatar. "I'm hardly afraid of _you_."

"You should be."

"Then prove it!"

And with that Zuko started stalking forward, arms dangling at his sides, senses on maximum alert. He remembered how easily he'd found it to predict Zhao's attacks during their Agni Kai—could recall how he had managed to dodge most of them until he'd gotten too close too fast.

If he could keep his focus, if he could keep himself from getting hit… he could possibly reach the airbender and get Uncle's dagger to his throat. He would just have to be more careful than he'd been with Zhao. Would have to take his time, and-

The Avatar hurtled a torrent of air in his direction, and Zuko rolled out of the way, then hopped to his feet just in time to spin out of reach of another.

As Zuko landed lightly and waited for another attack, the Avatar looked at him oddly.

"You aren't attacking me."

"No," he said stubbornly, not willing to give away any more than that. "I'm not."

The kid shook his head. "But if you don't want to attack me… what _do_ you want?"

Was the boy that big of an idiot?

"The same thing I wanted in the South Pole." He took a slow step towards him, but the Avatar moved backwards in response. "I want to _capture you_. I _need_ to capture you."

"But _why_-" A loud crash echoed behind them, and both Zuko and the Avatar turned to see a burning building collapse. Horrified, Zuko scanned the rest of the village, jaw dropping as he realized that there were a host of others ready to follow. He didn't want to care, mentally screamed that focusing on the Avatar was more important—these people could rebuild their village, but without the Avatar, he would _never _regain his honor—but the part of him that hadn't been able to let that general sacrifice those soldiers' lives three years ago _recoiled _at what was happening around him.

He'd brought this to the village.

He didn't blame his men—as soon as the warriors attacked, he would have been angry had they not defended themselves—but this…

This was _bad_.

"I-I'm _leaving_," the Avatar said. Zuko looked at the boy to see that his gray eyes were filled with sadness… like he was about to cry. Nothing like the monster that had thrown him from his ship. "I'm going to _run, _Zuko. And if you want to capture me—you'll have to follow."

And when he grabbed his glider and took off, Zuko made no move to stop him.

Because he wanted to leave as much as the Avatar did.

Taking one last look at the burning village, Zuko made to call his soldiers back to the ship, but then-

Then he smelled something sickeningly, disgustingly familiar.

_That's burnt skin. _

Zuko unthinkingly took off towards the smell, some mixture of empathy and surely misplaced concern prompting him to hurry. The scent was coming from near where the building had collapsed, and as he approached the ruins, he could barely make out a figure curled near the remaining foundation, lying helplessly in the ashes. The person's face was black with soot, most of its clothes burned away, along with a lot of skin, but he, she… whicheverit was, was still alive—he could just barely hear the fluttering of a heartbeat.

Without even thinking about it, Zuko moved the person to a safer, isolated alleyway and threw himself to the ground near the body. It was a middle-aged woman, he realized now that he was closer—possessing delicate features, and with long dark hair.

_Just like my mother. _

He forced the comparison from his head and instead tried to focus, putting all of his energy into creating his healing fire. For the first time, he found himself completely and utterly grateful for his ability as the colorful flames sprung to life in his hand.

Common sense telling him to treat the burns along her torso first, Zuko gently let the fire hover over the woman's charred skin, thinking about his last lesson with Akio. Burn away the bad chi and replace it with good. Clear the underbrush and encourage new life.

He could feel the process taking place, too. With injuries so serious and his attention focused on her so strongly, he was able to sense the clearing of chi and the flow of energy much more clearly than he had when he'd healed himself or when Uncle had been playing with his fire.

As Zuko worked, he also found himself able to expand the range of his flames, to spread them out across more of the woman's burnt body. Doing so required the upmost concentration and when the area spread too big, Zuko could tangibly feel himself growing more tired by the second, could feel the dent his efforts were making on his own chi. He backed off slightly, but only as much as he needed to. He wouldn't curb his efforts any further—not when he could see the healing before his eyes, the burnt flesh fading to a healthier color.

It was amazing.

Then the woman started stirring. Zuko tensed, but didn't let his concentration waver as he heard her start moving. He needed to finish this— was tired enough that he didn't know if he could take care of all her injuries if he had to work at calming her down as well. And she was bad enough off that he worried leaving so many burns behind wouldn't be enough to save her—that she'd only die of infection anyway.

And Zuko couldn't have that. The moment he'd set to healing the woman, he'd felt some kind of responsibility for her—had known her life was in his hands and that if she died, some of the blame could be placed on him.

The fact that she reminded him of his mother only amplified that feeling.

"Ugh… the… fire-"

"Calm down," Zuko urged hoarsely. "You're going to be alright."

She groaned and shifted. Zuko hastily finished her torso—or at least enough so that the skin was baby pink, if not a hundred percent healed—before moving on to the burns down her legs.

"Wha-"

"I'm healing you," he said. The gentleness in his voice surprised even him. "Please, just let me heal you."

Her eyes peeled open. Soft gray looked up at him. Took in his Fire Nation armor. He glanced at her, saw the shock in her eyes and tensed, waiting…

But-

"Thank you."

Zuko swallowed before focusing in completely once more. His hands soon grew heavy, and then all of his limbs, and as he finished her legs, he registered that his inner fire was beginning to flicker.

He pushed forward and did her arms to the best of his ability anyway, working until his eyes started pulling shut and his head spun.

"I… I'm finished," he whispered. "And- " _Dammit. She looks like my mother. _"I'm _so sorry._ We were trying to find the Avatar. I didn't want-"

"I have a daughter your age," the woman interrupted, voice still weak. "Suki… she's a warrior too. You fighters have to make hard choices sometimes—I know that."

He thought of the girl warriors he'd so carelessly tossed aside.

Had one of them been this woman's daughter?

Guilt tugged at his heart.

It was because he was tired. He was allowing himself to feel such ridiculous things because he was so tired.

"I…"

"Go. If you are sorry—please, take your men and leave us."

"Right. I will. And I _am _sorry." He looked over his shoulder at the burning and destruction. "Honestly."

He got up slowly, swaying on his feet for a moment. Right when he moved to leave, however, the woman asked, "Can you tell me your name? So… so I know who saved me."

Zuko glanced at her.

"Zuko." He took a deep breath. "My name is Prince Zuko."

And with that he staggered away, calling for his troops to retreat to the ship as he did so. At some point, he registered that water was falling from the sky—but it was right about then that he collapsed with exhaustion, and so he wasn't sure that _that _wasn't just wishful thinking.

When his eyes peeled open once more, Uncle was looking down at him, shaking his head.

"We are making too much of a habit of this, my nephew."

Zuko sighed. His head was pounding again, but he at least this time he didn't have to deal with any lingering aches. The woman, whose name he realized he'd never gotten, would be the one with those.

But at least she would be alive.

He hoped her daughter would appreciate that—that the warrior named Suki would not take her mother's continued presence for granted.

The thought briefly occurred to him that perhaps Suki had died in the fighting, but he wouldn't let himself dwell on the possibility. Even briefly considering it made him feel ill.

Just how much damage had he caused? How many burnt bodies had he _not _found? And if he'd been as intent on chasing the Avatar as he'd been before… would he have even _noticed? _

"I'm sorry, Uncle." He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for worrying his uncle or for allowing the village to burn.

He could have lured the Avatar outside the village. Could have snuck in by himself and captured the boy when he wasn't paying attention. He could have…

Could have done so many things differently, but instead he'd barreled in there like a savage, put his men, the girl warriors, and the villagers all in danger, and then let things escalate to unreasonable proportions.

Uncle had told him a million times that he needed to _think things through. _

Why was he only just remembering that advice now?

"Oh, Zuko. Don't be sorry. I was simply worried… What happened to you?"

He looked down.

"I confronted the Avatar, but as we were fighting… I heard a building collapse, and we both stopped. It had burnt down, and- and so had most of the village. My men had been attacked—it wasn't their fault, but things had escalated too quickly and it'd turned bad. The Avatar left, telling me to follow him and leave the people alone. I was going to listen, but then I-" He paused, catching himself before he admitted he'd smelled the woman. He didn't think even Uncle could fully accept something like that. "I… _saw _a woman, lying near the collapsed building. She was badly burnt but still alive."

Uncle put a hand on Zuko's shoulder.

"You healed her."

He nodded.

"I… I had to. And-" He pushed back the urge to cry. "-she looked like Mom. Her face—there was the same kindness there." Zuko chanced a look at Uncle. He looked to be on the verge of tears as well. "She woke up halfway through, and she saw a person in Fire Nation armor kneeling over her while _holding fire_, but she trusted me when I said I was going to heal her… and she thanked me." A shaky breath. "She has a daughter near my age—one of the warriors we fought against. Is it wrong that I hope the girl is okay?"

"Oh, Zuko." His uncle pulled him into a hug, and Zuko flailed awkwardly for a moment before accepting it. After a moment, Iroh pulled back, eyes glistening with tears. "Of course it is not wrong. But I would not be too worried if I were you; the soldiers say the young Avatar rode the mighty unagi and manipulated the creature into spraying water over the entire village." _So the water from the sky had been real. _"The fires were all put out."

"But if it was too late-"

"Then that was too late. It is not something that can be changed."

Zuko looked down. "It's my fault."

"Yes," said Uncle. "It is." Zuko cringed. "Butthat only means you will learn from this experience and be more careful next time. Does it not, Prince Zuko?"

"Of course. But-"

"Not buts." Uncle stood and straightened his robes. "If you are up for it, it is nearly time for your lesson with Akio." A pause. "Unless you are too tired to go?"

Zuko quickly swung his feet over the edge of his bed, wincing when his head spun at the sudden movement. He took a moment to push back the dizziness before getting to his feet.

"No… I'm… I'm fine."

And it wasn't until that moment that he realized something.

He'd let the Avatar get away.

He'd _let him _leave, and the thought hadn't even entered his head until that moment.

And still… he hadn't been lying. He was fine. He'd lost the Avatar, but had saved that woman's life.

Zuko found himself unsettled by how petty the first seemed when compared with the second.

What in Agni's name was happening to him?

…

Akio looked up as the prince entered the sick bay. Taro was laying back on a cot, reclining easily as he perused a letter he'd just received from home. He'd been in the process of giving Akio detailed commentary about the contents with a dopey smile on his face—it'd been from his wife—when the knocking had sounded on the door.

Now the engineer paused in his reading to look at Zuko with blatantly unconcealed derision. Akio knew something had to be wrong with him when he bristled, but damn him if Zuko hadn't gained enough of his respect that seeing Taro's ugly expression was irritating.

Not even a full week since their lessons started, and already he'd seen how the kid could relax when he really got into something—how Zuko was almost _likable _when he lost some of his bite and started letting his guard down.

Admittedly, it was also nice to talk about his work with someone who cared. After three years of puttering around in the sick bay by himself whenever he wanted to focus on his healing stuff, Zuko's company was undoubtedly _nice_.

And now it looked like Taro was ready to chase him off.

"Prince Zuko," said Akio quickly, catching the kid's expression when he saw Taro make to say _somethin_g. He'd always thought gritted teeth and narrowed eyes meant Zuko was pissed, but Akio had seen the same look on his face after Jee told him the Avatar was in the area. Not anger, he'd realized, but like he was settling in for something unpleasant.

Made him feel like shit for all the times he'd taken that expression as a sign to egg Zuko on.

"I see you're busy," said Zuko stiffly, turning to leave.

"Damn right-"

_Dammit Taro. _

"No," said Akio firmly. He caught Taro's sidelong glance and almost felt embarrassed for defending Zuko, but even if he wouldn't have been looking forward to the lesson, he would have made sure it happened anyway. Iroh wanted the lessons to happen, and… and anyway, Zuko had given him more than enough reasons to keep them up; no reason to ruin a good thing just because of a tetchy engineer. "Taro, you can finish reading your letter later."

"But-"

"_Go_."

Taro blinked. Akio was aware the crew had been gossiping about Zuko's frequent visits to the sick bay, but he also knew they'd assumed he'd been coerced into giving the boy lessons, and Akio hadn't made any move to correct those assumptions. Probably why Taro was looking at him like he'd grown another head. It was only a handful of days ago he'd been claiming Zuko didn't have the ability to _feel _at all.

When he saw the shock in the kid's eyes as Taro cleared out of the room, Akio admitted he'd been wrong.

Almost made it worth all the explaining he'd have to do later when the crew interrogated him for taking Zuko's side over 'one of their own.'

"That was unnecessary," said Zuko then, still hovering just in front of the doorway. Like he thought Akio would change his mind at any second and kick him out for making Taro leave.

"He was just driveling about his wife anyway. It rotted my teeth, it was so sweet." He got to his feet and waved Zuko into the room; thankfully, the prince complied without much of a hesitation. No more commenting on how he'd chased Taro off either. Good. He hated touchy feely bullshit. "So. We were on illnesses when you got pulled off to chase the Avatar. Honestly, my knowledge is pretty limited on that kind of thing, but I figure-"

"Can you show me how to heal burns?"

Akio blinked.

"Huh?"

"The village back there—we burnt it down." Akio noticed that he grouped himself in the category of 'we' when his fire couldn't burn shit at the moment. The kid was shouldering the blame for something he hadn't done; something else Akio never would've expected of him. "People were hurt-"

"That's why they dragged you back to the ship unconscious?" Akio cut in. "Isn't it? Because you exhausted yourself trying to heal hurt people?"

Zuko eyed Akio evenly, chin held high—daring him to say anything negative about his actions.

"A _person_. I exhausted myself healing one person. And there were probably more who were hurt, but-" His posture straightened even more. "But even if I hadn't been tired, I would have left anyway. There'd still been fighting, and more villagers would have gotten caught up in it."

A Fire Nation prince drawing back from his mission to prevent Earth Kingdom casualties.

Akio wasn't entirely sure what in the hell to think of that. He found the kid's compassion admirable, but damn, the Fire Lord _would_ _not approve. _Didn't even know if he did himself—morally, it was obviously right, but it was also a dangerous habit to get into. Might even get him killed in the future.

Didn't want to say that though—refused to tell a kid off for _helping _people.

Cautiously, he said, "Saving lives is generally a good thing."

Zuko looked like he wanted to add something to that, but instead he shrugged. There was a beat of silence, and then Akio cleared his throat and said, "Burns, then?"

"If that's okay..."

Akio didn't acknowledge that Zuko seemed to only want the knowledge in order to potentially help people who were technically 'the enemy.'

Instead he headed over to where he kept his supplies.

"Perfectly fine. Hell, traveling with firebenders for so long, I consider the area a particular specialty. Can't count the number of times Jee's come down here after training sessions with you. Calls you a little demon—means it in a good way, I think." _At least sometimes. _

Zuko snorted. "He gave as good as he got." And Zuko had never once come down to the sick bay to get treated. Too proud for it. Or maybe he just hadn't wanted to deal with Akio's shit_. _Probably both. "…Jee doesn't have to worry about me anymore anyway—not with my bending like it is."

"Least you didn't sound _entirely _pissed off when you said it that time. Seems you're finally starting to come around." Zuko pursed his lips, but didn't argue. "About time; I'd kill for a talent like yours." He nodded to the table in front of him. "Now get over here so I can share my wisdom with the younger generation."

"Agni help us all…"

And Akio laughed, because damn him if he wasn't already growing rather fond of the kid.

…

"And then he kicked me out! Told me to leave-"

Lieutenant Jee shook his head as he listened to Taro's complaints. It was something else, that was for sure—all this about _Akio, _of all people, defending the spoiled prince. Only Jee wasn't an idiot and he sure as hell wasn't blind, and there'd been _something _different about Prince Zuko since he'd all but drowned—something that made him wonder if maybe the lower-ranking officer didn't have some basis for starting to stick up for him.

Zuko had been keeping to himself a lot more since he fell into the sea. His sparring sessions had stopped, his training reduced to little more than meditating with Iroh. Really, almost all of his time was spent down in the sick bay with Akio or holed up in his quarters—always studying his healing scrolls or examining maps of the Avatar's latest travel patterns. At least from what little he'd been able to work out of Iroh when he'd asked.

Hell, Jee didn't even care what Zuko was doing. What mattered was that the prince had learned to make himself scarce; when before he'd always stuck his nose in every little bit of the crew's business—got on them for slacking, constantly told them to do this or that differently, personally guided them to every location on the damn map—he now gave tersely polite suggestions or wasn't around at all.

Between that growing phenomenon and Zuko's improving treatment of Akio, Taro really didn't have much ground for complaint. It didn't even sound like the brat had done anything, not except for show up for a preplanned lesson… if the men were going to work themselves up over crap like that, problems would start cropping up again. Given how uncomfortable most of them still were with Zuko being alive at all, maybe even more talk of mutiny…

Just when things were starting to settle down after the incident in the South Pole.

Jee supposed he should probably tell Taro to shut up before things escalated.

Of course, that would also mean defending Zuko, and no matter how different the boy had been acting, Jee wouldn't pick him over the crew. Akio's behavior was understandable—the kid was his apprentice or pupil or _something_. But Jee didn't have that extra incentive to stand up for him.

He'd have to leave Zuko's defense in the hands of someone who actually cared-

"Get over yourself, Taro."

He almost smirked at the timing as Akio sauntered into the mess hall, his sharp features twisted like he smelled something awful.

It seemed everyone present bristled at his presence. If the pseudo-medic noticed, he didn't react. Only smirked every bit as confidently as usual as he sauntered over to an empty seat, already carrying a plate full of food, and sat himself down.

He didn't eat though. Instead he stared at Taro and waited for his friend's response.

"So you're still defending _him_."

"We made a deal with General Iroh," said Akio. "We treat the kid better. He treats us better. It's worked so far. Don't fuck it up."

There was some grumbling at that. Akio was technically right. The truce had settled Zuko down somewhat and no one wanted to end the reprieve. But a loose deal to spare them a sixteen-year-old's bitching _certainly_ wasn't important enough to warrant anyone taking Zuko's side in anything. Not in some of their opinions.

"The General didn't say a thing about giving the kid preference over me-"

"Yeah?" Akio stabbed a piece of fish with his fork and shoved it in his mouth, chewing slowly and staring at Taro in a way that made the engineer squirm. Akio was one of the bigger men on the ship, tall and well-built, while Taro was small and scrappy and a good deal older. The scene reminded Jee of a mongoose-dragon staring down a mouse-rat.

Akio must've seen the effect he was having too, because his smirk broadened.

"Then maybe you should consider the possibility that the kid _deserved it_," he said slowly.

"Fuck that. No matter how much you like having a little polar dog at your heels, absorbing all your healing nonsense, that brat is and always will be a selfish bastard who's going to drive us all into the ground searching for the Avatar, trying to reclaim honor and glory he's _never _going to deserve."

"What kind of asshole bashes a _sixteen-year-old boy _like that! You're a grown man-"

"You did the same thing!"

"And I _regret it_. Spend any time with him at all—real time, not time on-duty when he's bossing everyone the hell around because he feels like he needs to—and it becomes pretty damn obvious that he doesn't deserve _half _of the shit he gets-"

"Oh, come on, Akio," said Ichiro, piping up from a corner. "I'm starting to wonder if the kid _didn't_ come back with dark spirits swarming all around him. It seems one's decided to latch onto you-"

Ichiro didn't even _believe _in spirits, was just dicking around, but Jee knew the effect his words were going to have even before Taro and Ping jumped to their feet, staring at Akio like he was going to eat them.

_Too much. _

"Sit the hell down," he snapped, smashing his fist against the table. The two men listened reflexively, years of military doctrine ingrained into them well enough for that much obedience. "Ping, Ichiro… you went onto Kyoshi with Zuko. If the story I heard from Yori is anything close to truth, the prince let the Avatar get away so he could call you off before the village burnt down completely… when the only reason it was burning in the first place was because you _disobeyed _his orders to keep yourselves under control-"

"We were _attacked_. We had to defend ourselves-"

"That's not his point," Akio cut in. He looked at Taro. "He's saying that Zuko _let the Avatar go_; that he had to let him go because of his soldiers' actions, and didn't call them out on it _at all_." A snort. "There are no damn spirits. I'm simply not as blind as you morons. So maybe Zuko died—he's also changed… Either that, or circumstances have forced me around him enough to see that maybe he didn't need to."

"The Avatar fled," argued Ichiro. "I saw-"

"And did Zuko chase?" Akio snapped.

No one answered.

"You know what he told me?" asked Akio. "He told me '_we _burnt the village down.' Like he had a part in that. Didn't blame you, said _nothing _about disobeyed orders." Akio shook his head. "Say what you will, but shouldering the blame like that sounds like something a damn good leader would do."

And for once, not even Taro had anything to offer in reply.

Jee sighed and relaxed back into his seat. He hadn't known that second part, but when it all came together, even if Zuko hardly looked like a shining hero, he hardly came across as a spoiled brat either.

Hell, maybe death had been good for the prince.

And maybe that would be enough to keep the crew together until they finally managed to capture the Avatar.

…

Meanwhile, on Appa:

"I'm almost glad Zuko survived the South Pole. Now we don't have to worry about Aang finding out he accidentally killed someone."

"Uh, Katara." Sokka gulped, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I don't think he did survive. When he talked to me, he'd kind of implied that he _had _died… and then came back to life."

"You know?" The two water tribe siblings hastily quit talking and looked up towards where Aang was perched on Appa's head, body turned so he could speak with them. "Next time Zuko finds us, I think we should talk to him."

"_NO!" _Sokka and Katara both blurted at once, not needing to confer at all to agree letting Aang hold an actual conversation with Zuko would be a _bad _idea. Even if they could somehow find a way to make it safe for Aang, the prince would almost certainly mention what'd happened in the South Pole. _Although, _Sokka thought, _maybe talking to Zuko wouldn't be such a bad thing. We really need to know how he survived falling into the ocean. _

And they did need to know. If he was some super-power, indestructible super-bender, Aang would need to know about it.

Of course, Zuko hadn't seemed to be all that special of a bender at all, so that probably wasn't a very likely explanation. Not that Sokka could think of anything that was. It occurred to him briefly that maybe not being crippled by the cold water was simply a firebender thing, but he _knew _that wasn't it. Firebenders had died in the ocean the first time they'd raided the South Pole; even if his memory of the day was a little shaky, he was almost positive that they'd been at least somewhat affected by the freezing temperatures.

Then again, that was all irrelevant anyway if Zuko was to be believed. He hadn't said anything about being immune to the cold, or using his firebending to get out of the water safely.

He said he'd _died. _And then come back.

Which was a prospect much, much more terrifying than fancy firebending.

"Why not?" asked Aang, still apparently intent on talking with the prince. "I don't think he's a bad person. He didn't try attacking me back on Kyoshi, and when I asked why, he said he didn't want to hurt me—just to capture me."

"Yeah. So he can take you back to his father, where _he'll _hurt you."

"That's not fair," said Aang. "He doesn't seem so bad. He looked really upset when he saw the village burning, let me leave and everything. And even in the South Pole, he stopped fighting as soon as I said I'd go with him. He's not really evil at all; he just wants me."

"Aang…" said Katara. She looked to Sokka, evidently wanting him to say something to talk the other boy out of his crazy notion of talking to Zuko, but he'd made a good point. Zuko didn't come across as evil. Just a jerk.

A jerk with apparently immortal tendencies.

Still, Sokka had to offer his input; he didn't want Aang talking to the crazy firebender anymore than Katara did.

"He might not be that bad, Aang, but he still wants to capture you," he put in reasonable. "Talking to him would be _too risky_. We get that you like making friends, but is trying to chat with a potentially not-_entirely_-malicious firebender worth getting sent back to the Fire Nation for? One slip, and it's the whole world that suffers."

He felt bad, having to use the whole 'Avatar' thing on Aang, but it was the only idea Sokka could come up with that was more or less foolproof.

Still, he winced when Aang's shoulders slumped.

"Oh, right. I forgot about that." He sighed. "It's just, I don't like seeing so many bad firebenders everywhere. And today Zuko seemed _decent. _If there's hope for him… I don't want to ignore it."

"I know, Aang," said Katara. "But the risk isn't worth it."

Sokka could see the skepticism on Aang's face, but at least he didn't seem as determined to corner Zuko as before.

"I guess." A pause, and then he smiled blindly. "But if an opportunity comes up, I'm going to try to get through to him."

Sokka couldn't help but wince; even _he _would be hard-pressed to listen to the person who apparently killed him. It was almost a given that Zuko wouldn't want to hear a word Aang said to him. He couldn't say that though.

"You do that. Just… be careful, okay?"

"I'm always careful," Aang said with a grin. Then he turned his attention more fully to Katara, and started chatting about a totally different subject.

Sokka let out a sigh of relief.

Zuko had apparently ceased to be one of their too-many problems. At least for a _very _brief time.

...

Author's Note:

Not quite my usual weekly update time, but I went on vacation for Thanksgiving and just got back this evening. My apologies. An extra long chapter to make up for it though. Along those lines-I'll probably just stick with the longer chapters. It feels less choppy to me, and it takes less time to edit one long chapter than to go out of my way to do two shorter ones twice. Most people didn't seem to care anyway, so hopefully that's fine.

Also, this is one of the first chapters that really diverges from the original plot, and a little more of Zuko's healing bending is at least speculated over here as well, so I'd love to hear what you think about both of those things. You guys are great about leaving detailed reviews and sharing your opinions, and I always look forward to reading your thoughts. Please keep it up.

Thanks again, and hopefully I'll have next chapter up in around a week.


	5. The First Few Steps

**Ch.5**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

It was some days later, after one of his training sessions, when Zuko concluded that practicing his offensive bending with Uncle wasn't getting him _anywhere_. He'd been working on controlling what flames he had for the majority of his lessons anyway, but what little time he did spend trying to produce normal, or at least hot, fire was a complete and utter waste. He could feel deep down that he no longer had the capacity to bend with anywhere near the _power _he had before. Not unless there was some outside factor that he didn't know to account for.

After his lesson, he told Uncle that he wanted to start practicing entirely with what he could – that he wanted to focus on stamina and healing and defensive work.

Right after that, he also decided that he best start working with his dao blades, since he didn't have much else left as far as going on the offensive went. Of course, training in front of his crew was out of the question – firebenders didn't use non-bending weapons, and anyway, word of his proficiency with swords would spread across the Earth Kingdom in a matter of weeks given the way his men gossiped – but Zuko wasn't opposed to doing so in private. He'd always loved swordplay anyway, had secretly looked forward to his lessons with Master Piandao a lot more than those with his bending teachers, so taking the extra time to focus on the art was an infinitely more appealing prospect than driving himself mad trying to bend in a way he simply _couldn't. _

Zuko also approached Jee and told him that he wanted to resume their sparring sessions. Jee with firebending, and he without.

"I have to fight the Avatar like this," Zuko said when Jee protested. "I _need _the practice." He then added a somewhat reluctant, "I would be very grateful for the help."

That was enough to gain the lieutenant's reluctant consent.

And so started his new routine. Wake up. Train extensively. Search for the Avatar. Read Akio's scrolls until he fell asleep.

Rinse and repeat.

That is, until he found the mask.

He and Uncle had been searching for supplies (although Zuko suspected his Uncle was doing little more than shopping for more of his ridiculous knickknacks) while a number of his men enjoyed shore leave, when a female shopkeeper caught his uncle's eye and the old man wandered off to flirt.

Horrified, Zuko discreetly slunk off, telling himself that he would pick up the things the ship actually needed, and then locate Uncle.

_Hopefully _before he did anything inappropriate or disturbing-

_Oh shit. _

Zuko screeched to a halt just as he was about to run into one of the stalls that littered the marketplace. He hadn't been watching where he was going – had been too caught up in getting away from Uncle – and only _barely _managed to stop, less than a foot in front of…of a pair of hauntingly empty black eyes.

Zuko almost jumped out of his skin, honestly somewhat frightened, before he realized that he was looking at a mask. Good ear turning red with embarrassment, he gritted his teeth and took a deep, calming breath, praying that no one had seen him make such an idiot of himself. Thankfully, it seemed that no one was around. Zuko sighed with relief and made to move on, when a white-haired old man popped up behind him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and almost gave him another heart attack.

Zuko growled and reached for his knife, intending to scare the insubordinate fool out of his wits, but the man shook his head before the prince could draw the weapon.

"I don't mean no harm, boy," he said, lips twisted into an enterprising smirk. Obviously a businessman trying to make a sale. "I just saw that ye were lookin' at the mask o' the Blue Spirit. Seems ye were mighty innerested."

It was all the prince could do not to roll his eyes, more annoyed at the merchant's presence than embarrassed at being caught cringing away from a painted mask.

"No," he said. "I wasn't."

"Are ye certain? 'Cause there's a special story behind that piece, if ye wanna hear it."

"I don't-"

The man didn't listen.

"It's said that the Blue Spirit wanders the shadows of the Earth Kingdom, helping those who need him. He protects travelers from thieves and bandits, looks out for the poor and hungry – a whole host a things, if ye hear enough versions o' the tale."

"That's wonderful," said Zuko. "But I'm not interested." He looked at the mask one more time, something eerie settling in his stomach. Almost like a foolish part of him actually wanted to buy it.

What a _ridiculous_ notion.

"Even if I told ye the mask was fer free?"

Zuko snorted.

"If it's free, there's a reason you want to dump it off on me." Hell, that was probably actually the case. The mask was downright _frightening. _The man probably thought keeping it out on display was bad for business.

"O' course there's a reason, boy." His smirk broadened. "That there mask has been waitin' for ye. It'll be mighty disappointed if ye leave it behind now."

Zuko blinked, eyes roving the man's features and finding nothing but an absurd kind of seriousness. The creepy old geezer believed what he was saying.

"Are you crazy?"

He cackled. "A might bit touched by the spirits, but not crazy yet. I kinsee things though, and I think ye best take that particular piece with you, _Prince Zuko_."

"_What_?"

"Yer face," the man said. "It's rather recognizable. Perhaps ye might want somethin' ta cover it?"

"Whether or not I cover my face," growled Zuko, "is none of your-"

But then he found himself hesitating.

His face _was _recognizable. If people caught him bending, or using his swords, or realized how sensitive most of his senses were, there would be no doubt that it was _Prince Zuko_ they were seeing. And most of them would start gossiping about it… would carry that gossip all the way back to the Fire Nation. To his father. Which, in no realistic universe, would possibly end well for him.

But if a figure in a mask were to do odd things, a mask that supposedly depicted an actual spirit, well…

He could get away with it. _Easily_.

"I'll take it," said Zuko.

"That's what I thought."

Instead of dignifying such an absurd comment with a response, Zuko yanked the mask from its display and slipped it under his cloak – no use having a disguise if everyone saw him get it – before storming off, certain he could hear the old man cackling behind him.

…

"Breathe, Prince Zuko. Your fire comes from the breath-"

Zuko growled, warm, almost _molten_ fire streaming weakly from his mouth like foam from a rabid animal – actually _breathing _fire was infinitely more cathartic, but he was more or less beginning to accept his new bending, and not being able to release his anger effectively was hardly a deal breaker – as he bit back a sharp retort.

Another moment to push back the last of his irritation, and then, coolly: "I know how to breathe, Uncle. That isn't my problem."

Iroh shook his head.

"Your fire is so sparse, Prince Zuko. If you want to generate it in greater quantities, you will have to find some way to power that generation. When you try again, take a deep breath and attempt to tap directly into your chi."

Zuko curled his lip but attempted to follow his uncle's advice, breathing deeply – doing his best to ignore the influx of smells that assaulted him as he did so – and closing his eyes, throwing all of his concentration into reaching for his chi. He knew all the paths it followed by heart, was aware of how it was concentrated in his stomach, and so he mentally focused on the areas that it pooled most heavily, did his best to touch as much of that pure energy as possible.

His inner fire flared, and liquidy flames flowed from his hands, moving and writhing like a living thing. He could feel it absorb Agni's rays and expand in a way it hadn't been able to before the South Pole, and he pushed more energy into it, tried to make the fire bigger and stronger, to generate something more than what little he could usually force from his hands …

Zuko cracked an eye open just long enough to see a fragile swirl of multicolored fire spiraling around him, the flames themselves thin but at least _there_. He held it for a moment longer, tapped into the sun for as much extra energy as he was able, before he felt his inner fire start to flicker and allowed his control to dissipate.

The flames dissolved into thin air, and Zuko released a panting breath.

Uncle smiled.

"Very good, Prince Zuko. You are improving." _Barely_. And he wasn't being overly hard on himself. He couldn't produce much more actual fire than he'd been able to initially; couldn't hold it for very long either – his only substantial improvement was that he found it easier to focus and manipulate his bending how he wanted. Other than that, to his never-ending frustration, his abilities remained one-dimensional. Even healing-wise, he was shaky at best, had only a loose grasp of what he could really do and didn't possess the least bit of endurance. He'd read that even water tribe healers could take care of dozens before growing tired. Probably because they relied on what was already there to power their bending. He dealt with his own fire – put his own _energy _into what he was doing. Waterbenders had their water skins, and-

_Of course. _

Zuko's head shot up, and he interrupted whatever advice his uncle had been in the process of giving.

"We've been so stupid," he said. Iroh blinked, but Zuko plowed forward impatiently. "Bend for me, Uncle."

"Pardon me?" A beat passed, and then Iroh's eyes widened as Zuko's request clicked. "Prince Zuko! What a brilliant idea. I cannot believe we did not think of this earlier." He looked at Zuko with genuine excitement on his features. "Are you going to attempt to bend normally with the fire, or will you try to make it so that it is like your own?"

"I… I don't know," said Zuko, a little uncomfortable with the way his uncle was smiling at him, like he was really proud of him for coming up with something that should have been obvious right away. He ducked his head and shrugged. "…but I think I might have to change it – to make it my own." He didn't want to admit that it hadn't even occurred to him to manipulate the existing fire as it was; such a notion didn't seem feasible anymore, wasn't even something to be considered. His bending had changed intrinsically, and he didn't think it was any more likely that he could control real fire than that he could make it.

"Okay. As you wish, nephew," said Iroh. And then a small, flickering fire burst from his hand.

Zuko reached out towards it, trying to bend the heat away from the flames like he'd learned how to do when he was small. It worked; the fire licked harmlessly over his skin.

He took it in his hand then, still making a point not to let it burn him. The fire flickered for a moment, like it might go out, before burning strongly once more, now resting in his own palm. For a second Zuko almost wondered if he hadn't actually gained control of the pure fire, but then the flames started slowly shifting to green and blue and red, although they still burned more strongly than those he'd recently been able to conjure on his own.

"…add more," said Zuko deliberately, brow furrowed with the effort at keeping the flame alive. "_Slowly_."

Uncle nodded and listened, pouring additional orange fire into Zuko's colorful blaze. Both watched with some degree of awe as the two kinds of flames blended and grew, eventually turning the same plethora of colors, cooling and softening but burning higher and higher. Zuko's arms shook with the effort of maintaining control, but he allowed Uncle to keep going for some time longer before he had to ask him to stop.

Zuko moved his arms slowly then, briefly twirling the fire through midair, letting it spin through the air in front of him… and then, instead of letting it go when he started losing control, some instinct prompted him to let the flames close in on himself and melt into his skin. Just like he remembered from when he healed himself after getting burned by Zhao, the sensation was warm and comforting, but as the flames found nothing substantial to heal, nowhere to go, they flowed into and through him instead, settling in his stomach and stoking his inner fire, empowering his chi… flooding his veins.

Zuko's heartbeat ratcheted as the world slowed around him, as every sound and smell and sight was heightened, everything around him growing impossibly vibrant. He felt lighter, more powerful, and fire raged uncomfortably hot through him, pulled and tugged almost unpleasantly at his skin as though it was demanding to be let out, and for a moment Zuko felt like he was going to explode, but in a good way… like he was too big, too _powerful_ for his own body.

Then the extra fire faded and settled and he was left with only a strong, heady feeling and a vaguely noticeable buzz of power still flowing through him.

"N- nephew?"

Zuko blinked, his vision settling to a more realistic level, although it still remained sharper than normal. He moved his arms experimentally, but the gesture felt only a little different than usual. Whatever change came over him had faded dramatically.

"I'm sorry," said Zuko, shaking his head. "I'm not sure what just happened."

"Your eyes – they glowed." His uncle frowned and examined him more closely. "They _are _still glowing. What did you do?"

Zuko averted his gaze self-consciously.

"It was an accident," he said quickly. "It didn't feel right to let that fire just fall away – not when it's so…" _So alive_, he wanted to say, but that made him sound like a fool and so he left the statement unfinished. "And so I reabsorbed it. I figured it would just restore the energy I'd used up during our session." _I didn't take into account the extra energy you gave it, that I suppose even the sun added in. _

"Are you okay? If you have overworked yourself-"

"No." He frowned. "It didn't feel like that." _It felt right_. "I…" He wanted to say that they should try again. That he should try absorbing more fire – that it might help him in his quest against the Avatar if he could find a way to retain that exceptional strength.

Except when he thought about how it'd felt to have that energy running through his veins, flaring up inside him, he became _afraid_. Because it was too much, more power than should have been there, and there was something sacred and enormous and magnificent about what had just happened to him. Something that he felt too small to control and not worthy to recreate.

His pride flared at the mere idea of him not being worthy for anything, but when Zuko thought of repeating what just happened, he found his hands starting to shake.

All that power that had been waiting to explode from inside him?

He had a feeling it wasn't something he necessarily wanted to mess around with. Not right then. He knew he couldn't control it, not really, and with so much overpowering energy ready to burst out of him, something bad was bound to happen. The way it'd felt, he worried it might tear him apart from the inside.

"I shouldn't do that again," said Zuko finally. He took a deep breath. "I do want to keep working with outside fire though. It might be useful."

"Very well. But that shall have to wait. You are scheduled to spar with Jee momentarily, are you not?"

Zuko nodded absently.

"Of course…"

But the session with Lieutenant Jee did not last long. Zuko was still running on an overabundance of energy, his hearing and smell and eyesight still abnormally elevated, and it felt as though he could sense every move the other man was going to make long before he made it. His movements were fast and almost shockingly stealthy, and he pulled off impressive jumps and feats of balance with little effort at all, even taking into account how graceful he was naturally.

Within a handful of minutes, he slipped behind Jee and wrapped his arms around the firebender's neck.

Jee gaped, but managed to collect himself after a moment and say, voice saturated with shock, "That was… very good, Prince Zuko. Would you like a rematch?"

Zuko shook his head. Whatever was going on with him made him feel _off, _made his skin feel itchy and his whole body a little too hot. In any case, it was obvious Jee didn't want to fight him again, that he was even discomfited by Zuko's sudden, impossible improvement.

Hell, even Zuko was a bit uncomfortable.

It would simply be better to hold off on the training for the time being.

"Not… not today." A deep breath. "We can try again tomorrow." _When whatever this is has gone away. _

"Of course, sir."

Zuko turned to walk away, but then Jee said, with sincere feeling: "_Unusual _as it was, that was very impressive, Prince Zuko."

He froze, his first thought to search for something hidden behind the words – an insult, an insinuation that he was a freak, not a proper firebender, that there were spirits working for him, but…

But there was only gruff sincerity on the lieutenant's face, and nothing suspicious at all about his tone.

It was a genuine compliment.

He blinked.

"Lieutenant Jee…"

"Prince Zuko?"

_Thank you_.

Except he couldn't bring himself to say it – didn't even know if he deserved the compliment in the first place, not whenever in the hell it was he'd done had only come as a result of some screwed up spirit magic that he'd only earned through being pathetic enough to nearly die.

Still. Jee's words felt… _nice_.

Not like he could say that either, though – not unless he was interested in becoming the laughingstock of the crew.

Zuko swallowed.

"...never mind."

And then he wandered back to his quarters, head still buzzing with what had happened.

…

Zuko was meditating, heart beating evenly along with the candle flames that surrounded him, when someone pounded impatiently on his door. He almost sighed in relief when he recognized that the sound wasn't any louder than his new usual – that the effects of whatever he'd done with those flames were completely evaporated. The notion put him in a good enough mood that he wasn't half so annoyed as usual by the interruption; in fact, as he opened the door, he recognized that even the scowl he'd put on reflexively didn't have much bite.

When he saw the figure waiting outside, any annoyance fell from his expression completely.

Akio was there, leaning boredly against the wall as though he hadn't just been knocking like a raving madman.

"The Avatar has been spotted near the southwestern coast of the Earth Kingdom," he said casually, watching Zuko closely as he spoke. "Ping has a cousin stationed there; said he saw a strange bald monk trekking through the port… only commented on it because he thought the kid was dressed _funny_. Not a fucking idea he'd seen the Avatar."

Maybe it was some semblance of calm left over from meditating, or perhaps the nonchalance with which Akio delivered the message was in some way contagious, but Zuko found himself more surprised than enthused at the news.

_Or maybe_, he thought darkly, _I'm not an idiot. Maybe it's finally sinking in that catching the Avatar is no longer the solution to all my problems. _

"What port?" asked Zuko anyway.

"Osaka. That was some time ago, but given that we've been pointlessly drifting along these last few days…"

"It's better than nothing," finished Zuko. He eyed Akio oddly; while the man was hardly a fulltime healer and spent most of his days performing an assortment of other duties on the ship, he'd _never _deigned to serve as messenger-boy. Generally, Jee took up that role. Zuko knew that the men usually argued over it, and the lieutenant took the job because he didn't want fighting to start over what should have been an inconsequential task.

What _would _have been an inconsequential task if Zuko apparently wasn't such a horror to be around.

Then again, it looked like Akio had possibly started to not hate him as much, and despite the fact that a prince shouldn't be thinking favorable thoughts towards a low-ranking peasant, he couldn't help but feel grateful.

Gratitude did little to quell his curiosity, though. Sharply, he asked, "And why are _you _the one telling me this?"

Akio snorted.

"You're not an idiot. Most of the men would rather clean out the latrines than deal with you when you get worked up about the Avatar. Ping wasn't going to say anything to you at all. I volunteered because the information never would've gotten to you otherwise, and unlike the dumb shits who think it's funny to screw with you, I want to get _home _sometime this millennia."

Zuko gritted his teeth; nothing surprising, but the knowledge that one of his men wouldn't have even bothered _telling him_-

Except that thought died the second he recognized that Akio had gone out of his way to make sure he _did _know.

He swallowed. It felt like he should somehow recognize what he'd done, like he should make sure his appreciation came across in some little way, but all the things that ran through his head sounded stupid – sounded sappy and weak and downright pathetic, really.

One of his men had done his job. The fact that he was so surprised about something like that only showed how awful of a commander he was.

Zuko forced the thought from his head and finally settled on saying, in a professionally detached voice, "Your honesty is much appreciated."

"Three years too late," Akio muttered, quietly enough that Zuko wouldn't have heard had he been normal. Zuko had to deliberately keep himself from openly gaping. Akio, as though he'd said nothing out of place, smirked, "Appreciated enough that you'll deign to take a suggestion from one of your underlings?"

The emotion that had been clogging up his throat dissipated in an instant; he'd been working with Akio for a good length of time at that point, and if the slightly older man had ever acknowledged that he was an 'underling' in any way, shape, or form, he sure as hell never acted like it.

Really, Akio acted almost as though they were _equals. _

Zuko hated to admit it, but that almost felt more natural anyway.

"What kind of suggestion?"

"Last time you went on shore to find the Avatar," said Akio, "a whole village got burned down and you seemed rather _upset_." The last word said carefully, like he was being careful to make sure Zuko understood it wasn'tan insult. "And you can claim that you had something to do with it, but you can't burn a thing, Prince Zuko. The crew got attacked and the situation spiraled out of control."

Zuko narrowed his eyes.

"You're telling me that I shouldn't take any men with me."

"I'm not telling you anything." Akio smirked. "I'm suggesting it. There are little bands of Earth Kingdom troops dotted everywhere, especially in areas with a strong Fire Nation presence. You lead men on shore, all the civilians that might know something are going to hole themselves up in their houses, and the soldiers are going to come out and fight. You _know _that."

Zuko pursed his lips as he thought that over. He did worry that if the Avatar happened to still be in the area, he wouldn't be able to effectively capture him, but chances of that were slim in the first place. This would be little more than a reconnaissance mission, where subtlety was infinitely more important than firepower.

Not to mention that going on his own would greatly reduce the risk of repeating what'd happened on Kyoshi.

_If I go at night and take my mask, _Zuko thought slowly, growing more fond of the idea, _I could possibly find an Earth Kingdom military camp or something of that sort. They'd know more about the Avatar than anyone else, and with my hearing... eavesdropping would be easy. _

"Good advice…" He couldn't help but sarcastically add, "For an underling."

Akio grinned.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't trying to undercut your authority."

"And that would have been the first time?"

"Touché." He didn't skip a beat. "I'll talk to Shou and tell him to set course for Osaka," he said, referring to the old helmsman. "And maybe Taro. You want us plowing full speed ahead?"

Zuko paused. Then: "No. I have… things to do before we reach land." _Like scrounge up nondescript clothing, and find a way to convince Uncle I'll be perfectly safe going out on my own in the middle of the night. _The latter thought especially made him cringe. It would have easier to simply sneak out, but Zuko knew speaking with his uncle promised less trouble in the long run. The need for stealth was explainable. Other situations where it wouldn't be could possibly arise in the future, and Zuko hardly wanted to risk his uncle's trust before it was necessary.

"Of course, sir."

With that, Akio left to speak with the helmsman, and Zuko wandered in the direction of Iroh's room, already attempting to figure out just how he was going to justify his planned solo mission.

…

To Zuko's surprise, his uncle seemed to approve of his decision to survey the area on his own before making other, more risky moves. While Iroh did express a strong degree of concern and reminded Zuko several times to maintain caution, he also relented with very little convincing.

And so, shortly after the ship docked late that next evening, Zuko changed into a set of the plain black shirt and pants standard soldiers wore underneath their armor – stolen from a closet full of extra and discarded items that had accumulated during their travels – and carefully shouldered the sheathe in which his dao blades rested. Finally, he retrieved the recently acquired mask from its hiding place under his bed and placed it over his face with an almost ceremonious gravity. The moment felt significant somehow, although Zuko found himself unable to determine exactly why.

For a moment he stood where he was, fingers still on his mask, not entirely willing to move or disturb the odd feeling that came over him when the cool wood settled over his skin. It felt as though he'd just done something that would change his life.

Which was ridiculous. But he allowed himself a second longer to dwell on the moment before returning his focus to the task at hand: finding those who would know the most about the Avatar.

Having such a specific mission in mind made Zuko feel a lot more purposeful than he had in some time. After the South Pole, his thoughts had been blackened with the reality that even catching the Avatar wouldn't solve his problems – not if his father learned of his trip into the sea and the circumstances surrounding his survival. But for some reason, as Zuko slunk off his ship, careful not to get caught for fear that even a sighting by one of the crew members would ruin the anonymity he'd sought with the acquirement of the mask, he felt a lot more content with his circumstances than he had for some time. There were no worries about what would come after capturing the Avatar because that particular possibility was still far off. All he had to concern himself with for the time being was finding information about the boy's presence. The rest would come later.

He also admitted, albeit reluctantly, that there was something freeing about escaping from that ship with his face hidden. For that one evening, he could ghost through the shadows with his blades on his back and his bending just as it was, without feeling ashamed over either. There would be no rumors following his presence, no whispers or fearful looks… no glances of disgust from those who saw his scar and had heard whispers of the story behind it.

He would simply be a shadow in the night. A shadow with a mission that, for once, wasn't impossible.

And the knowledge that he _could_ escape the weight of the prior disappointments and failures and embarrassments that accompanied his name and face, even just for a night... that knowledge made Zuko feel as though he could fly.

After slipping into the town, Zuko took to slinking through the streets, ducking behind stalls and into dark alleys – anything necessary to stay out of sight. Although the mission was serious, he had something of a smile on his face as he moved; there was something fun about trying to hard not to be seen, about evading anyone's attention and turning himself into something of a ghost.

Sneaking was exciting in the same way that playing hide and seek had been when he was younger, back when he was at home and Azula was willing to spend time with him… when she still actually participated, and didn't tell him to go hide and then leave him holed up in some obscure location until his mother found him hours later and hugged him and said the game was finished and he'd won.

_What I wouldn't give to have my family back, _thought Zuko unwillingly. He shook his head. It wasn't the time.

Anyway, he wouldn't get his family back. Not like that. Azula was different, and his mother… his mother was gone.

Forcing himself to focus, he caught sight of one of the many taverns that crowded the harbor town's pier. Zuko moved silently towards the noisy building, turning his attention to the promising venue rather than ridiculous thoughts of the past. The smell of alcohol and sweat and slightly burnt food stung his nostrils and left a bad taste in his mouth, but he couldn't fault his advanced senses in the least – not when he was perfectly able to hear a handful of conversations in the bar relatively easily simply by positioning himself underneath an open window.

At first, all he caught was a jumble of noise, but then he started listening for specific words that would lead him to any rebel or militia headquarters, or other potentially Avatar-related locations. Things started slowly, but after an hour or so, a very useful group of men settled themselves almost right above his window. It seemed they were part of a local rebel group that had been failing miserably against the Fire Nation and were on the brink of giving up their fight. For a long while, they talked in hushed voices about how they shouldn't have tried fighting back in the first place, about burnt homes and killed families and how it just wasn't worth it anymore.

_Of course it isn't worth it, _Zuko couldn't help but think. _We're trying to help. You idiots are bringing the suffering on yourselves. _

Still… he thought of Kyoshi. Of how devastating the Fire Nation's presence had been there, when Zuko had honestly meant to do nothing more than get the Avatar and leave. How much worse would things be in places soldiers were actively trying to conquer? Where fighting happened so often, and people like those female warriors, people who refused to be taken over, kept trying to get rid of the Fire Nation presence over and over again… until they finally lost hope and simply gave up?

Really, he didn't even have to wonder at how to answer his question. He'd seen places like that on his travels, where the Earth Kingdom citizens had gray, drawn faces and were all much too thin.

Was the Fire Nation really helping?

Only then, his thoughts were interrupted by a few, short sentences that would have caught his attention from a mile away. "We can't give up _now_. The Avatar is back."

He snapped to attention, any thoughts of possible Fire Nation wrongdoings flying from his head in an instant.

"'s just a rumor," someone moaned.

"There was a kid in town – had airbender tattoos, was wearing the old monks' robes and everything. I saw him just a few days ago."

"Doesn't mean he's the Avatar."

"But the merchants from Kyoshi, they say he was there too. I think he really has returned."

"…people have been saying the same for years. Bullshit, all of it."

"Duck said he overheard the kid—told his companions he wanted to go Omashu, to play on some mail chutes. If that's all he's doing, do we _want him _to be the Avatar?"

_Shit. _

Zuko scowled. He'd had almost ridiculously good luck in catching that conversation, but learning the Avatar was probably, by that time, actually _in _Omashu certainly canceled that out. Omashu was inconvenient. He and his men couldn't get anywhere near the city without running into trouble, and while he had no doubt that he could probably don his mask again and sneak in, he had no way of catching the Avatar, getting him out of the city, and taking him back to his ship without getting caught.

He would have to travel in that direction, and then wait until the kid left. That flying bison was easy enough to spot; if they were close enough to see the beast take off, he could probably follow his trail from that point on. At least if he continued traveling over the sea.

If the boy decided he wanted to head into the Earth Kingdom for whatever reason, Zuko would… he would have problems.

_But I'll dwell on that later. First, I need to have my crew set sail for Omashu. _

That thought in mind, he stood from his crouch and spent a moment stretching his stiff legs before starting back out of the village the way he had come. As he walked, he attempted to determine his chances of reaching Omashu before the Avatar took off. If the boy really wanted to go to play on the mail chutes, which was ridiculous but sadly plausible, he probably wouldn't stay for long. He could possibly already be gone. Omashu wasn't far away, especially not with that bison, and anyway, Zuko was already several days behind.

Still. Omashu was a start. He would head that way, and then figure something out then, maybe search for information in nearby villages-

_Is that crying? _

Zuko halted and listened, but relaxed somewhat when he recognized it was only a baby, the sound unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent night. But that was normal enough. Babies cried.

_Then why doesn't it sound right? _

He slowed somewhat, sensitive ears honing in on the noise. It was only a moment later that he recognized it hadn't been coming from a nearby house like he'd originally thought, but somewhere closer… and there were other sounds with it. Not just a baby crying, but a woman too. Low, pained whimpers that certainly _weren't _normal.

Slowly, tentatively, Zuko crept towards the cries, concern apparently taking precedence over common sense. Even as he moved forward, he attempted to convince himself that he was being an idiot, that whatever was going on wasn't any of his business, wasn't-

He stopped mid-step as the smell of blood hit his nose _hard. _Without even thinking about it, his cautious tiptoe morphed into a silent jog as he streaked towards the sound… a sound that was coming from an _alley_, he realized.

As he approached the mouth of the alley – if the narrow, dusty path that ran behind the village's shops could even be considered a proper alley – Zuko did his best to take in the scene in front of him. His eyes weren't any better than they'd been before, were worse than a normal person's really, since his left eye hadn't been able to catch anything more than shadows since his Agni Kai, so he couldn't actually see much through the darkness, but his other senses certainly told him enough. There were three people: the baby, the crying woman, and a man he hadn't heard before. A man who he was whispering comforting words to his wife… words about how she would be okay and that she couldn't leave him, and she had to live for their new baby.

_She's just given birth_, Zuko realized.

His ears focused on the baby's crying, but that was healthy; he figured it'd be more concerning if the baby wasn't making noise. It was the woman who was having problems, she who the blood was coming from. He'd hardly read about _childbirth_ in his scrolls, but all that blood… it had to have been a hemorrhage or tear or something _bad. _Something that was going to kill her. Something that, by the desperation in his voice, her husband _knew _was going to kill her.

_Don't you dare, _Zuko told himself. _They're homeless… useless Earth Kingdom peasants. And… and… _He stalled uselessly, unable to mentally voice that his biggest problem was embarrassment for having run across the scene in the first place. Because even though he couldn't see much, he had a good idea of where that blood was flowing from, and just the idea of birth and fluids and _stuff _coming out of women parts made him uncomfortable.

He'd felt a hell of a lot more at ease with the burn victim.

The woman on Kyoshi had been his fault anyway. This was just incidental, none of his business… and the woman was homeless besides; a drain on society, and-

_What will you lose if you help? They won't even know it's you. It'll just be a person in a mask. _

Zuko swallowed, but that voice – that ugly little conscience that had caused problems for him his entire life – made very, very good sense. And the idea of leaving that woman there to die, of leaving that baby to grow up without a mother, grated at him.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to cringe at the metallic tang of blood on his tongue, he strode deeper into the alley.

Almost as was to be expected, the man cringed as soon as he saw Zuko, and even the weak, weary woman moved further into herself, her moaning going quieter as she tried her best to disappear. Paranoia told Zuko that speaking would be detrimental to his plan of remaining as unmemorable as possible, but almost immediately he also saw that if he didn't say anything, the woman was going to try to run and probably kill herself.

Not like he blamed her. He knew very well that the mask he'd picked was scary as hell, and he imagined the swords on his back didn't make him appear an ounce more trustworthy.

Reluctantly, but not as much so as he would have expected, Zuko said, "Relax." He realized just how like a teenage boy he sounded, and so he made an effort to lower his voice before he spoke again, to make it profound and spiritual in the hope that they'd write the occurrence off as an act of the 'real' Blue Spirit. "I wish to help you."

"W-we're fine-" started the man, although he looked somewhat taken aback at Zuko's words. They obviously hadn't been what he was expecting. The woman attempted to move again, but fell back against the wall of the alley with a barely stifled scream.

The smell of blood grew worse.

Zuko exhaled sharply and withdrew his swords from their sheath – eliciting a gasp from the couple – before letting them clatter to the ground of the alley.

"I'm unarmed now," he said, voice almost pleading. "I can help."

A pause. And then, desperately: "Fine… if there's _anything_…"

He didn't wait for the man to finish the sentence, instead rushed forward and knelt next to the woman. Blood soaked his knees and he had half a mind to recoil in disgust, but he bit back the urge in favor of reaching out to her. "There will be fire," he said, already concentrating on expanding his inner flame, "but don't panic. It will help you."

"_What-_"

Only Zuko was already bending by that point, and the man's mouth clamped shut as he saw the colors erupting from Zuko's hands. Falling into the sensation of healing, Zuko all but forgot his worries of awkwardness as he focused on keeping the flames strong and providing a consistent flow of energy into the woman. She'd lost a lot of blood, was very, _very _weak, and even after he felt _parts_ – Zuko refused to get one bit more specific than that – heal and skin join back together, he continued infusing his chi with hers, knowing how necessary the _life _was for her. Even if he could feel his inner fire straining at the extra effort, he didn't want to risk her dying of blood loss.

"Hiro..." whispered the woman as Zuko leaned back on his heels and put out his fire, finally satisfied that he'd done enough. She extended a hand, and the man grasped it tightly. "He helped me. I think… I think I will be okay." She looked at Zuko and smiled _blindingly_. Despite her sweat-drenched hair and filthy cheeks, Zuko couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful. So _young _too. Probably not any older than twenty. He hadn't realized it before, with her features contorted in pain, but now her youth was painfully obvious. "Thank you." Then, to the man: "Our son… please, now… now that I am well enough to see him, show me our son."

Slowly, the man picked the baby out of his makeshift bed – a baby, Zuko noticed, that had stopped crying – and handed the boy to his wife.

She cradled him tightly in her arms, looking at the pink, pinch-faced bundle with such open love and devotion that Zuko almost felt ill. The father, he noticed, was also gazing at the both of them with uninhibited adoration.

Zuko felt very, very hollow. Why couldn't his father _ever _have looked at him like that? Why had he had to lose the mother who _had_? Why-

_This is hardly the time to be thinking of this. _

Uncomfortably, Zuko cleared his throat.

"She should be fine," he told the man. "But…"

He looked at both of them, at their dirty clothing and the lack of bed they had for their child. It tore at his heart that he had nothing to give him, that he hadn't brought any extra food or supplies. It had seemed unnecessary for a night-long outing, especially when it was well within the realm of his abilities to steal anything he needed should he be kept from his ship.

Now he wished he had even something as simple as a loaf of bread. He wouldn't have given a large sum of money, not when that would only leave the family susceptible to thieves and suspicion and give them more trouble than it was worth, but… but he could have given the man enough to buy decent clothes, so he could find a job. He wished he were able to do _that much_, at least.

"You have done enough," insisted the woman, as though she could tell exactly what he was thinking. "We will find a way to make do. I am certain. My husband is not unskilled, see; he is a blacksmith, but the Fire Nation burned down our home after they learned he was helping the rebels… if we move on, it will not be so hard to find work."

Zuko blinked.

He'd heard those rebels in the tavern talking about the Fire Nation, about burning homes and… and killing families. But hearing about such things and seeing the results of them were two totally different things. And really, he hadn't believed the worst parts, had thought they were the result of too much Earth Kingdom propaganda.

For a moment, he wondered if maybe the woman wasn't lying, but that would make no sense. She apparently didn't want anything from him, and the man didn't seem to either. They had no idea who he was, so they weren't making a play to turn Fire Nation nobility to their cause.

Unless there was something Zuko was missing, the woman was very likely telling the truth.

And while Zuko supposed that perhaps it would have been reasonable for the Fire Nation to shut down the man's business upon learning of his entanglement with the rebels, it was something entirely different to burn down his _home_. Disgust rolling in his stomach, he recognized that this probably hadn't happened very long ago, that the family would have already moved on if it had. Meaning, if the woman was to be believed, Fire Nation soldiers would have left a _very _pregnant woman and her jobless husband on the streets out of what he couldn't imagine amounted to anything more than _spite_.

Zuko gritted his teeth. He wanted to stomp back to his ship and write his father immediately, to tell him that a number of soldiers stationed near Osaka had surely acted without the consent of their superiors and took their actions against a misled Earth Kingdom family _too far_, but the thought died as quickly as it appeared.

He wasn't a fool. He knew how such a plea would sound to his father; it would come across as though his already disgraced son wanted him to punish _Fire Nation soldiers _because they acted against a single Earth Kingdom family who had been providing aid to the army against which the Fire Nation was fighting.

His father would be disgusted.

Zuko half wanted to feel disgusted himself… but he was the one seeing the fallout of what had happened, the one who was standing in front of a broke, homeless family who was only broke and homeless because of the actions of _his people_. And if the rebels in the tavern were to be believed, this wasn't uncommon in the area. Zuko couldn't fault his people for trying to put down insurgences, but what'd happened to this family was cruel and unnecessary. Just like anything similar that might have happened to the other families the rebels had been talking about… those rebels whose words he'd barely acknowledged before, but that he now couldn't discount quite so easily.

His earlier thought about the Fire Nation maybe _not_ helping came back to him in full force.

Except surely that wasn't true. The Fire Nation did help people, or at least they tried to. What was going on in Osaka was a _fluke_. It had to be. His father would _never _support something so barbaric. He wouldn't allow his soldiers to kill families and burn down homes to put down a rebellion that never had a chance in the first place.

…would he?

Zuko swallowed.

He honestly didn't know.

"Are you okay?"

Zuko snapped his head up, realizing that the woman's eyes were still on him.

"Um. Of- of course," he managed, the weighty quality he'd been trying to keep in his voice falling off with his increasing unease. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He could worry about the other stuff later. "…do you have any food at all?"

"We will find some," said the man, pride ringing in his voice; he was beginning to get annoyed with Zuko's line of questioning, didn't like that a stranger seemed to doubt his ability to provide for his family.

Zuko pursed his lips, but nodded. He wasn't confident, hated leaving them with nothing, but thin and filthy as the family looked, there was a certain determination in the eyes of the man that gave the prince little doubt that he would do everything possible to make sure they came out of their situation okay. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough to make him drop the issue. He'd helped them, had given the husband what looked to be a renewed motivation to keep his family afloat and granted that baby a future with a mother, or at least the possibility of one. And that, he realized, would have to be enough.

"Very well," he said, somewhat dully. Even though he wasn't sure they would appreciate it, not when it was apparently the Fire Nation that had led them to their current circumstances, he couldn't help but add one of his country's traditional blessings: "May Agni's face shine upon you always."

The man's eyes narrowed with just the smallest amount of suspicion, but the woman managed a weak smile.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Zuko looked at them for a moment longer, and then he slipped back into the shadows, somewhat lightheaded from his healing but feeling oddly _good _all the same. Even though his learning of the Avatar's last known destination did little but give him an extremely general idea of where to turn his search, he couldn't help but feel that the night had been more successful than he ever could have expected before setting out.

At the same time, Zuko found himself unable to keep from dwelling on other, less pleasant thoughts. Because as proud as he was of saving that woman's life, he also couldn't ignore the events that had apparently put that family in that situation in the first place, couldn't completely discount the rebels' claims that such a thing probably wasn't entirely uncommon.

Surely what he'd seen really wasn't as widespread as that conversation he'd overheard at the bar would have him think. The Fire Nation _wouldn't do that_.

Yet, as he slipped back into his ship, Zuko found himself wondering for the first time if maybe the Earth Kingdom didn't have a reason for fighting so violently against Fire Nation control.

If maybe his people weren't quite so perfect as he'd previously thought.

…

**Author's Note- **

Not quite a weekly update again, but I was traveling and trying to keep up with schoolwork at the same time – not fun. Anyway, two weeks isn't completely awful; that's actually quite good for me for some of my stories, so I won't dwell on it too much.

And _yes_. Getting the mask from a creepy old guy because it's 'calling to him' is cheesy. The healing scene at the end probably is a little bit too. But hopefully neither seemed overly unrealistic. Right now, everything that's happening is kind of a big, giant prologue. There's loads of information and character-developing stuff, but believe me when I say that Zuko is in a _rut_; finding the Avatar suddenly isn't enough to solve all his problems, he doesn't even know _what_ he is, and the fact that he isn't totally focused on the Avatar is allowing him to see things that sit poorly with him. Like the ugly reality of war. In other words, his whole life's a confusing mess and these chapters probably reflect that to some extent.

I guarantee that things will get more upbeat and action-filled and… well, not less angsty, because it's _Zuko_, but smoother in that this big ball of plot stuff will finally start rolling. Because that totally makes sense.

And to **cj1of4, **who left a couple reviews – your theory isn't _totally_ accurate, but it is legitimate enough that I had to comment on it. Won't give anything else away there.

Alright. Done now. I've got finals all next week, so I don't know if I'll have time to edit chapter six. Which is also the last chapter I've got backed up. But, on a brighter note, it's two weeks of Christmas break after that, and I can probably get another four or five written out reasonably quickly if I don't get writer's block. Hopefully.

Anyway, until next chapter, adios.


	6. When Eyes are Opened

**Ch.6**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Zuko didn't sleep at all after he returned to his ship. He tossed and turned restlessly, feeling as though he were being torn in half as he did so. Part of his internal struggle involved the Earth Kingdom family specifically. He hadn't dwelled on it before, had been so worried about their survival and relieved that the woman was alive and emotionally involved in the situation in general that he hadn't really thought clearly about the implications of his actions, but now he can't help but think that he should have left that woman for dead.

He'd gone out of his way to save the wife of a man who had been part of a rebellion _against the Fire Nation_.

It was treasonous and traitorous and a million kinds of wrong. And even though he hadn't known of the man's involvement with the rebels when he'd acted, he still shouldn't have cared about a homeless Earth Kingdom family. He was _the prince of the Fire Nation. _Their situation should have meant nothing to him.

He didn't know what it meant that it _had_. That he would have been devastated if that woman had died under his hands, and that he was still concerned about what was going to become of them.

Was he stupid? Wrong?

His father had called him too compassionate, as though it were a bad thing, more often than Zuko could count, but Uncle… Uncle always said that his so-called 'kind heart' was a _good thing_. And his father was the Fire Lord, and Uncle was a fat, lazy nobody, so surely it was obvious who Zuko should listen to.

Still… Uncle _always_ looked happier.

But certainly being Fire Lord was more important? Didn't Zuko have a duty to his people?

_Does that even matter anymore?_

He couldn't bend except to heal, and he was only alive because of supernatural intervention. Once his father learned those details- once his people learned those details- what would become of him? Surely no one would still want him as Fire Lord.

Should he be compassionate and happy then, like Uncle? Would that be going against his nation?

And was going against his nation such a bad thing in the first place_?_

He hated to even think it, but as his contemplations grew more and more turbulent, he found himself mentally revisiting all of the places he'd seen over the last three years. He recalled the Earth Kingdom men and women with the gray faces and stooped backs in the towns the Fire Nation had already taken over, and then those who were fiery and defiant towards him in the ones not yet under 'enemy' control.

Did the latter's reluctance to accept the Fire Nation's presence tell him something? Zuko had always assumed they were savages because of the derision in the way they looked at him, of the contempt in their eyes whenever they mocked his so-called 'impossible' search for the Avatar. But maybe they had a reason to behave in such a manner, if the Fire Nation really did burn down homes and hurt families like he was beginning to worry… if Fire Nation influence turned them into the subdued, sad-faced men and women who inhabited towns already under his people's control.

Even looking at the issue liberally and allowing that the rebels themselves deserved some amount of punishment, Zuko had to acknowledge that there was _no reason _to bring innocent lives into it. And anyway, if the Fire Nation was so willing to retaliate with such cruelty… maybe the rebels weren't entirely out of line in fighting back.

Or... or maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe what he had seen was a singular occurrence and he had nothing to worry about. Maybe his memories of previous experiences in the Earth Kingdom were tainted by his currently questionable perspective, and maybe those rebels in the tavern _had _been overly influenced by Earth Kingdom propaganda. Or even if everything they'd said _had _been true, there was always a chance that the soldiers at Osaka were simply a bad bunch. Perhaps they had a commander who was unnecessarily cruel and spread his influence to them.

Those explanations didn't feel right, but there was little else he had. He really did want to think the best of his people.

But the more he struggled to sleep and fought to justify his thoughts, the more he doubted and the more he hated himself for that doubt. What got him the most though, what really rankled, was that he _knew_, without a doubt, that his father wouldn't have approved of his actions that evening. And the thought that he was still so far from who his father wanted him to be, even after nearly three years, was painfully humbling.

The thought was also, he realized, illuminating in a way he _really _didn't like. In light of the previous evening's events, he had to wonder if maybe who his father wanted him to be and what he wanted for himself were two totally different things. He didn't regret helping that family, not in the least. And if he was so certain his father would be furious with him for doing something that had felt so _right_… what, exactly, did that mean?

More than anything, that question eliminated even the slightest possibility of sleep.

Needless to say, Zuko was grumpy that next morning. He avoided his crew, knowing that one wrong move on their part would make him snap, effectively destroying the tentative understanding they'd reached with his uncle's help. He also wanted to avoid Uncle, but Iroh managed to find him anyway. Zuko had been sitting in the sick bay and sniffing at one of Akio's herbal creations, attempting to break down its composition and improve the medicine overall. He only had half an idea of what he was doing- although his sense of smell certainly helped make picking out individual components of the concoction easier- but the work had been helping to keep his mind occupied.

"Ah, Prince Zuko!" said Iroh when he stepped into the room. "How was your mission last night?"

Zuko looked up from his work and opened his mouth to admit that he'd gathered any information on the Avatar that he was likely to get– that they should start heading in the general direction of Omashu immediately.

Only he didn't want to leave. Not quite so soon.

His business in Osaka wasn't finished yet.

"I never found anything concrete, but I did get some leads. I think I'll have to go out again tonight."

Uncle eyed him. Zuko was a horrible liar, and Uncle obviously knew that he wasn't being entirely honest. After a moment, however, the older man nodded slowly.

"Very well, Prince Zuko. So long as you promise me to rest this afternoon. You look exhausted."

And Zuko, feeling somewhat more at ease after declaring his intent to head out into Osaka once more, decided to take Uncle's advice. The idea that he would get a better idea of what was going on in the harbor town went a long way in settling his thoughts, and after training, he was able to slip back into his room and catch a few precious hours of sleep.

Then, once it was dark, he donned his mask once more and slipped back into town.

His first move was to retrace his steps from the previous evening, until he found himself at the mouth of the alley where he had helped the family the night before. Zuko realized almost immediately that it was empty, although he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was carrying money with him that time around- could have given them some amount of extra help- but at least they'd moved on, were going somewhere, trying to do _something_ with themselves.

That was a good sign. Hopefully.

Curiosity satisfied at least somewhat on that account, Zuko left the alley and began a slow, sneaking tour through the town.

His worst fears were confirmed very, very quickly. Oddities he never would have noticed before captured his attention within moments, such as the way the smell of smoke clung to the air as though a lot of burning had been going on recently. Unless an abundance of natural fires had started cropping up in a community _right by the sea_, the blacksmith's home hadn't been the only one the Fire Nation had visited.

Zuko also noticed that the town had a disproportionately large number of homeless people.

Some weren't like the family he'd helped the night before. While he couldn't see them, he could smell and hear them, was aware of the sharp stink of alcohol on their breath and their drunken slurring and senseless murmurs. But there were others too, men and women and even children who he could tell hadn't been homeless for long. Most were depressingly silent, but he caught a few snatches of conversation suggesting that Fire Nation officers kicked a lot of them into the streets so that _they _could have nicer places to live, or that little acts of so-called insurgence had been punished by a scorched livelihood.

Zuko tried– Agni, he _tried_ –to justify the rare, telling whispers, but from first syllable he overheard, his doubts intensified tenfold. Horrified, he sneaked closer to the bodies that packed the few places of suitable shelter that existed, and found himself appallingly fascinated by what he saw. Port cities were usually questionable, generally did have a large number of vagrants running around. Zuko had visited enough of them since leaving the Fire Nation to know that much. But this one, so crowded with Fire Nation troops, was a different kind of awful. Not seedy so much as depressing… more eerie than squalid.

He didn't know what to think.

So he acted instead.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Zuko began to sporadically help those who most needed it. He crept closer to person after person, always with his hands held up in surrender even as he prepared to draw his swords and defend himself if necessary. He never spoke, simply knelt next to those he'd chosen to assist and did his best to make things better. While most of the problems were things he could not fix, such as depression and starvation, he did his best with what he could. Sore throats and aching limbs and burns– so many burns –were easy enough and didn't cost him very much energy at all, so he focused on those.

And while the Earth Kingdom citizens were all initially suspicious, some actively threatening, those who did not chase him off or run away never failed to thank him profusely for his help. A little boy whose burnt arm he healed even _hugged_ him.

Zuko couldn't do nearly as much as he would have liked, was exhausted to the bone after only an hour or so, but as he made his way back to his ship, things began settling in his head a little more clearly.

In Osaka, if nowhere else, the Fire Nation presence was _detrimental_.

Based on previous observations, it was possible that Osaka wasn't so much of an oddity as he would have liked.

Finally, and most prominently, Zuko _hated _that he hadn't been able to help more, that he'd only made a small dent in those peoples' suffering. He hated that his nation was to blame for it, and he hated that there was nothing he could really do about it—not when he was certain his father wouldn't listen to any protests he might have on the subject.

He could do _something _though, he knew, albeit something little. Giving aid to those hurt by the Fire Nation, he realized with some degree of foreboding, had felt ridiculously _fitting_. Like he wasn't screwing up royally for the first time in his life. Small an impact as he'd made, the reactions of those people told him that his efforts hadn't been entirely wasted_. _Not to them.

_And anyway, _he couldn't help but think, to justify himself, _I'm doing what any good ruler would—I'm fixing my nation's mistakes. _

He was also interacting with lowly peasants and rebels, was dirtying his hands in matters that should have been none of his concern and was probably acting a hundred kinds of treasonous, but when he thought of the alternative- of turning a blind eye to everything he'd seen- he knew that, if his nation really thought showing basic human decency was wrong, maybe betraying them in _that single aspect _wasn't such a bad thing.

As he slunk back towards his ship, Zuko knew with the upmost certainty that the Earth Kingdom hadn't seen the last of the Blue Spirit.

Not by any means.

…

Zuko ordered his crew to set sail in the general direction of Omashu the next day, but his attention was hardly focused on the Avatar at all; it was on his plans for the Blue Spirit. He asked Uncle to further their work with outside sources of fire, motivated primarily by the need to increase his healing capacity, so he could treat more than a handful of minor injuries without exhausting himself. Later, during his healing lesson, he inquired specifically about the field medicine training Akio had picked up earlier in his career. While the slightly older man looked surprised at the request, he indulged Zuko and changed their focus to methods of treating medical problems as effectively as possible with little time and few supplies.

Exactly the kind of thing the Blue Spirit would have to do if he ever ran across another situation in which he'd need to help a large number of people.

Apart from his training, Zuko said little. His thoughts were constantly going back and forth between what he knew of the Fire Nation and his father, and what he'd seen at Osaka. For some time, he was unsure of what he'd seen in the harbor town, but his doubts lessened as time passed. Not even halfway to Omashu, Uncle insisted upon stopping at a small village along their way that apparently had an especially renowned tea shop, and Zuko made a point to listen to the villagers' conversations. The people hadn't been conquered yet, but more than a few were terrified of what might happen if the Fire Nation _did _take over– terror that was exacerbated by the presence of Zuko's men. And while he hardly believed _all _of the horror stories he overheard, he knew that most of them probably had at least some basis in reality.

Further confirmation of his fears came after his ship landed on the stretch of neutral coast nearest Omashu. Many of the surrounding villages and towns had already been captured by the Fire Nation, and so he found himself with more than enough proof that the conditions of Osaka had been more the rule than the exception. Every night, he told Uncle he was going out to search for news of the Avatar, and every night he snuck through the darkened streets of whatever village they happened to be closest to, listening to talk of what the Fire Nation had done– listening to how, even in the best case scenarios, the soldiers collected twice as much in taxes as was asked and left starving, penniless families behind. Rarely were his healing abilities as necessary as they'd been in Osaka, but he always found a handful of people who benefited from his help.

There were also, he recognized quickly, a whole host of fights to be broken up.

Earth Kingdom villagers got into spats with Fire Nation soldiers, and soldiers assaulted villagers. He couldn't help but concede that the latter situation was infinitely more common. The first time he'd witnessed something of the sort, he hadn't been entirely sure what to do and wound up having to heal a bruised and bloody Earth Kingdom man's broken nose. After that, he started interfering. He always had the element of surprise on his side, and more than once had chased off the instigators without even having to fight; one look at his mask, and they were shocked enough to run off without a second glance.

Of course, things weren't always so easy. More often than not, the soldiers refused to back down and he was forced to put his training with Jee to good use. He ducked and dodged sporadically thrown flames easily, splitting those he couldn't get out of the way of with his blades. When he got close enough, he either knocked the men unconscious with the broadside of his swords or by hitting certain pressure points. Several times, he attempted to take them out with his bending, like he had against Zhao, but he couldn't figure out how to go about doing so. He imagined it had something to do with draining energy from certain areas, or possibly overloading chi somewhere, but he didn't exactly have time to experiment while he was fighting, and his sporadic efforts never produced legitimate results.

That was hardly a concern. His opponents were generally too surprised to fight their best, and so he never had any real issues settling the disputes.

The problem, really, was that the fights were taking place at all. Fire Nation soldiers picked only loosely misbehaving Earth Kingdom citizens off the street and outright assaulted them, and none of the officers seemed to find the behavior unacceptable in the least. At least not that Zuko saw, although he would be the first to admit that most of his trips took place late enough at night that he didn't get quite as broad a scope of things as he would have liked. A lot of the soldiers he ran into were hardly top caliber, and a handful downright drunk; Zuko outright refused to judge the entirety of the Fire Nation army based on the behavior of the worst personnel.

That being said, Zuko overheard enough rumors to recognize that he wasn't seeing the full brunt of Fire Nation crimes. Often, he didn't even need rumors to prove that to him – he discovered the ugly aftermath of his people's actions more often than he would like. Sometimes it was burnt buildings, or the bruised faces of Earth Kingdom citizens, or even charred stretches of ground where fights had taken place.

And sometimes, it was much, much worse.

Zuko had known something was wrong the moment that he set foot in the small city of Wenshu, the last place he figured he would bother exploring before admitting to his crew that there was nothing to be found about the Avatar and that they best move on. His uncle was starting to worry about him anyway. Zuko had been throwing himself into training– the intense workouts helped him forget about everything he saw on his late night expeditions –and between the extra exertion and his lack of sleep, he'd started looking sickly.

Pretty soon, he knew Uncle would forbid him from going out at night.

Not that Zuko would be heartbroken if that were the case; his outings were _painful_. Every time he came across new evidence that the Fire Nation was doing something wrong, he wanted to run back to his ship and refuse to believe that what he'd seen had been real. Only a deep, internal compulsion to help where he could, and the satisfaction that came from doing so, kept him from turning his back on the ugly truths he'd discovered and continuing on as he had before.

Even that compulsion was barely enough to keep him from fleeing when the smell of burnt flesh settled on his tongue the instant he entered Wenshu. For a moment he paused on the outskirts, wondering if he truly wanted to get any closer to that smell, but compassion won out, and he continued stalking forward. As he moved further into the city, Zuko found that the scent progressively grew worse. Along with a host of other harsh smells that became more prominent as well: burnt wood, burnt grass... burnt everything. It was as though half the town had been razed to the ground. After a half mile or so of walking, Zuko grew concerned enough to consider climbing a roof to assess the damage…

And then he stepped out of the alley he'd been slinking through and found himself no longer needing to do so.

All at once, the larger buildings of the merchant district _stopped_, leaving nothing but the shell of what must have once been the residential area of the city. Most of the buildings were now nothing more than blackened framework, and some had been burnt so completely they could not even be considered that. Charred skeletons littered the ground, barely visible in the silvery moonlight. Most were unidentifiable, but some… he could see how small some of them were; not fighters at all, but children.

The Fire Nation had complete control of Wenshu, he'd heard confirmation of that before even setting foot in the city, but he'd expected something like he'd seen in the other occupied areas: a few burnt buildings, some displaced and frightened families, and maybe a few soldiers lingering behind to retain control.

Nothing like the horror stretched out in front of him.

_This wasn't a takeover, _he thought hollowly. _It was a massacre. _

Zuko swallowed and slowly moved forward, his boots crunching on the blackened ground beneath them. He could still feel the warmth in the ashes. Whatever had happened here, had happened relatively recently.

_All these houses. _

_All these people. _

Zuko exhaled heavily.

He'd been attempting to reconcile himself with the fact that the Fire Nation wasn't so high and mighty as he'd thought, had been getting around to considering that maybe the war wasn't being fought like it should be and that the soldiers needed to be inhibited to some degree, but he hadn't really thought on those things with conviction or urgency. He'd done his best to help the people whose lives were damaged by the Fire Nation, but the notion that the war needed to be stopped outright never registered.

He hadn't allowed himself to fully comprehend how truly _awful _the Fire Nation could be, how _twisted _the war had become.

Now, that heart-wrenching reality was laid out in front of him, impossible to ignore or deny.

Anyone who could do something so terrible, he recognized dully, was a monster… _his own people were monsters. _

He took a deep breath, intending to calm himself, but instead almost wound up choking on the ash-filled air. The smell only made his head spin and his stomach churn, only furthered his revulsion. It wasn't until he got his bearings back that he realized that ash wasn't the only thing he could taste– there were chemicals, even plants and herbs… things that reeked of healing.

_Some people are still alive. _

The Blue Spirit started moving immediately.

Finding the series of tents that had been set up for the wounded and displaced didn't take long. Even if the white canvas of the makeshift shelters hadn't stood out against the bleak landscape, the smells and noise would have been indicator enough. So much screaming and crying. Shouting children and pleading parents. Blood and burns and human excrement. Infection, as well– an awful, putrid smell that would have made him gag if he'd had a weaker stomach.

The sight of the camp only made him sicker. Overtaxed nurses and healers and seemingly whoever could help went from tent to tent. A lot of the people weren't seriously sick or injured, but were huddled together in tight-knit groups outside the tents, shaking and scared. They probably didn't have anywhere else to go, and he imagined they were hungry as well. Adequately feeding so many homeless simply wasn't feasible.

He also couldn't help but notice that the face of every person he saw was gray with ash.

_The Fire Nation is supposed to conquer territories. Even when they do so harshly, it's justifiable. But this… this is __**destroying**__. There isn't even anything left to conquer. It's senseless. _

Zuko almost wanted to slap himself for the thought.

He couldn't possibly be blaming this on his people.

The Fire Nation couldn't have-

No way-

Except they so very obviously had.

Zuko couldn't even begin to fathom why. Even looking at the situation from a purely strategic viewpoint, it was stupid to torch so much of a city, especially one so close to Omashu… Except the Fire Nation wouldn't have needed anything more than enough space to house a legion of soldiers. Omashu was the real goal. Wenshu, undoubtedly, had been seen as nothing more than a stepping stone. If the people would have rebelled, would have gotten in the way, it would have been simpler for the soldiers to eliminate the problem rather than continue dealing with the threat of insurgence.

He hadn't seen it at first, but in the bigger picture, burning Wenshu made things much easier on the Fire Nation.

_That's no excuse. _

It really wasn't.

Hands shaking, Zuko crept towards the camp. Each step felt almost ridiculously heavy, and every breath he took only reinforced his disgust at his own people. He couldn't fathom, couldn't understand how this could have happened. Again and again he told himself that it had been a bad company of men, that orders had gotten mixed up or a fight had escalated into… into the scene that surrounded him, but the excuses sounded hollow even to himself. He'd seen and heard enough to know that questionable behavior on the part of the Fire Nation wasn't so rare as he would have liked to believe. And while he still didn't know how long that brutality been going on, or how widespread it was, or what his father thought of it, Zuko also recognized that it wasn't a mistake or an exception. It happened enough to be intentional and accepted… and not just by a single group of soldiers, but throughout most of the military-

"Hey, you!"

Zuko jerked his head up to see an Earth Kingdom peasant standing outside the closest tent, a sword held loosely in one hand. He was playing guard duty, it looked like, even though he wasn't much older than Zuko himself and had a black eye and an ugly burn on his neck.

Zuko held up both hands to profess his innocence, but he couldn't keep impatience out of his posture. He'd hardly have the time or the energy to do a quarter of what needed being done as it was; he didn't want to waste either trying to convince this boy that he wasn't the enemy.

_Even though I kind of am. _

_THAT ISN'T TRUE. I never would have done something like this. _

_Apparently the people you are so proud of would have. _

_This is an exception. _

_And the other suffering you've seen? _

_It can't be indicative of the entire Fire Nation. My father would never stand for that. _

_The father who scarred and banished you, you mean? Yes, I'm sure he __**abhors **__violence-_

"What in the hell are you doing, skulking around out here?" the guarded demanded, and Zuko forced himself from the conversation going on inside his head.

He lowered one hand and waved the man– or boy, really –towards him.

"I aint getting closer to you until the mask comes off."

Teeth gritted– he was trying to help dammit! –Zuko darted forward, ducked under a strike from the guard's sword, and pressed his hand tight to the burn on his neck, simultaneously drawing one of his own blades with his free hand and holding it above the boy's head to keep him from moving. Then, as quickly as he could, Zuko flooded the burn with his healing fire, eyes closed in concentration, knowing he had to move quickly, before anyone else came to interfere in the struggle.

After a few seconds, thankfully, the boy seemed to recognize what was going on and stopped putting up a fight. Zuko only spent a couple more moments on the burn, knowing it could finish healing on its own.

Satisfied his point had been made, he stepped back and sheathed his sword before looking pointedly at the still-shocked guard. Bluntly, he gestured to himself, then the people within the tents.

"You just… you healed…" Zuko twitched with annoyance. "Right. G- go help… do whatever you just did to me, to them."

Needing no more permission than that, Zuko hurried inside the tents. The stench he'd caught before increased tenfold, and not for the first time, he regretted his sharpened senses. Looking at the blackened faces and burnt bodies and crying families was bad enough, but having to hear and smell and taste the suffering so strongly that he could close his eyes and still make out near everything that was going on was almost intolerable.

_Just tonight_, Zuko told himself. _Help these people tonight, and you can leave._

And with that, he headed straight for the gravest looking patient in his immediate line of sight... Or at least the gravest looking who still had a shot at pulling through. Several people were already crowded around the cot, and they all protested as he waved them away, some even showing obvious fear. Zuko ignored them in favor of laying a bare hand on the injured girl's shoulder. The burn there was enormous, ugly and infected. It would scar, definitely, but Zuko knew if he could draw the infection out, she would likely survive.

As he proceeded with his work, the protests died down, until finally the area around the girl's cot fell silent. Energy flowed from his body as he healed, but Zuko pushed the thought aside in favor of focusing on the wound, on burning out the infection… on infusing life itself into his fire.

"He's a spirit," one of the healers whispered behind his back. "A fire spirit, come to set right the wrongs done by his people."

It made him sick that she was more or less right.

How could the Fire Nation do this?

He took a closer look at the injured child in front of him. She couldn't have been any older than seven or eight... hurting her couldn't have served any purpose.

He shook off his disgust and finished getting rid of the last of the infection. A few more minutes, and the burn was mended enough that it would probably heal completely given time.

Unfortunately, even helping the single girl had taken a lot out of him, and there were dozens more. Healing everyone in the tent obviously wasn't an option. He could… he could heal those who would die without it, though. That would be… well, not easy, but loosely possible. The others, he could fix up with herbs or bandages, but only if whatever treatment they were receiving currently wasn't working. No way was he going to be able to leave everyone anywhere near well. He'd have to settle for doing what he could and hoping it would be enough to keep them alive.

Frustrated as it made him, Zuko realized quickly that it was his only choice.

And with that, he searched for someone else who needed his help.

The rest of the night dragged on endlessly. After some time, Zuko found himself a torch and carried it with him, to borrow the extra energy from the flames. Some of the patients started screaming and thrashing if they were conscious enough to realize Zuko was using fire on them. Some only needed to see his mask before lashing out, but after the first few times this occurred, healing assistants or volunteers would rush over and whisper comforting words, even hold his patients down, while Zuko worked as quickly and efficiently as possible.

When he wasn't bending or found himself having to take a rare break, Zuko examined those he'd deemed too 'well' for him to waste energy healing. For the most part, the healers seemed to know what they were doing, as most of the injuries or illnesses were being treated as well as or better than Zuko would have been able to. Occasionally, he would find something that would be fixed up more efficiently by a technique he'd picked up from Akio, and would scribble instructions on a cheap slate one of the assistants had scrounged up for him.

Then it was back to work. Several times, he stooped to examine a person only to find that they were too late to help. Once, a woman he was working over died in the middle of the process. And many, many times, Zuko found himself holding back vomit as he ran his fingers over blackened skin or festering burns, as he struggled to heal long gashes left over from where limbs had been amputated and flaps of extra skin hastily slapped over the exposed areas. But the sick were easily the worst, simply because of everything he couldn't do for them. He'd known he wasn't at all proficient at dealing with illness, but he hadn't really understood what that might mean until he was faced with dozens of gaunt faces who needed more help than he could give. He was unable to stop the coughing of the ones who'd breathed in too much smoke, could do absolutely nothing for those suffering from rampant lack of nutrition, and while he was able to infuse a small amount of extra energy into the people fighting disease, he wasn't sure how much of a difference doing so actually made.

He hated it. Hated that his country was to blame for this and hated that he could do practically nothing to set it right.

By the time the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, Zuko could hardly walk. He'd long since stopped trying to use his bending– tired as he was, and with the sun nowhere in sight, he hadn't even been able to make use of outside sources of flame –but there'd been plenty of help needed otherwise.

Help that was _still needed_, but he was exhausted and numb and could no longer think straight. Uncle would be worrying in any case, and it was time he went back to the ship.

Wearily, Zuko finished bandaging a small boy's leg, then stumbled upright. He took a quick look around, eyes flitting over the healers and volunteers, before deciding that they would take care of things better than could in his exhausted state. There was nothing more he could do.

Sneaking out of the tent unnoticed was relatively easy, and getting the rest of the way out of the small encampment just as simple.

No one noticed his absence until he was already long gone.

…

Later that evening, still tired and achy, Zuko debated whether or not he should return to the encampment, but there really wasn't even a debate to be had.

His embarrassing sense of compassion won out, and he argued briefly with Uncle, lying and saying he had a lead, that he just needed one more evening and then they could head out, and he'd stop with his late night solo expeditions.

And when Zuko arrived at the encampment to cheers and hugs and smiles, Zuko found he couldn't regret his actions at all. Even though another two people died that evening, even though he felt disgusting and tired and nearly dead himself afterwards, Zuko was certain those two nights in Wenshu were the most _meaningful _of his life.

…

Zuko stared out at the ocean as his ship traveled northward once more. He'd given the order to set sail the morning before, had said that he hadn't found anything on the Avatar anywhere near Omashu, and they would do best to continue in the direction the boy and his friends seemed to be heading.

His voice had sounded hollow, even to himself, when he gave the command. He _felt _hollow. Now that his adrenaline was gone and he'd scrounged up some small amount of rest after the past two nights, everything he'd seen and done was finally beginning to sink in. Zuko wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to think about what'd happened… didn't know what he _did _think.

He knew that he _felt _awful. Not because of what he'd done, but because of everything he hadn't been able to do. The woman who'd died when he was working on her that first evening haunted him, as did the two peasants who'd passed away before he could help them the night before. The suffering he'd witnessed stuck with him just as potently. While he'd helped, at least some small amount, he also couldn't forget the conditions in the camp when he'd left it behind. The people were happier, had smiled at and thanked him when he passed, but things were by no means _okay_. Those citizens were all still homeless, and the tents were still filthy and reeked of disease and death. There wasn't enough food or clean water. And no effort on his part could bring their homes back or return the friends and family members who'd been killed before he'd gotten there.

Zuko had never considered himself innocent or sheltered, but he hadn't imagined that people could _hurt _so tangibly as those he'd seen the past two nights. Even his own past, seemingly so awful to him before, paled in comparison to the experiences of those pale, ash-streaked peasants. Zuko… Zuko had always had hope, had never lacked something to fight for, but that first night, those people hadn't had _anything_.

And if their attitudes were slightly brighter because of his help, Zuko knew it was likely only temporary. He'd improved their current circumstances somewhat_. _He hadn't given them anything to look forward to, hadn't found them a place to go.

Most of them, he knew, probably had no way to make anything of themselves. Not with the Fire Nation still occupying Wenshu and in control of most of the surrounding villages. He tried to ignore that reality, but it settled over him like a poisonous fog all the same.

_And it's __**my **__people who put them there. _

The thought was beginning to feel redundant, but he couldn't stop thinking it. And he wasn't just a Fire Nation citizen– he was their _prince_! Something he'd been so proud of before, but a title that no longer seemed to hold the merit he'd once given it.

Zuko had always prided the Fire Nation on its supposedly stringent sense of honor, but there was nothing honorable about what they had done in Wenshu. Not in Osaka, or any of the other locations he'd visited recently either. He had a gut feeling it might be that way throughout the entire Earth Kingdom.

What did that mean?

Did he really want to go against his nation, against his _father_, because his people were exerting what he'd always been taught was their natural superiority over those lesser than them?

Then again… were the people of the Earth Kingdom _really _lesser? It hadn't felt that way when he helped the family with the newborn baby, or the dying peasants in Wenshu. If anything, the _Fire Nation _had acted as savages, while the citizens of the Earth Kingdom picked up the pieces with as much strength and dignity as they possibly could have.

The thought grated at him. He _loved _his nation, loved his people, and he loved his father. Thinking such negative things about all three felt like the worst kind of betrayal, but ignoring their actions made him feel like he was betraying himself… like he was betraying the people he'd spent so much time helping and healing.

Who was more important?

More importantly, who _should _be more important? Zuko knew he'd never been able to see things from the perspective his father wished him to. He'd always been too weak, too caring, too compassionate. Was that why he was having such a hard time stomaching the Fire Nation's actions now? Because of his own personal faults, and not due to any defects of his people? Even if that were the case, would he be able to push aside his own feelings on the matter and pretend he found nothing wrong with what he was seeing?

He had no idea.

Zuko knew what his father's opinion on the matter would be, but Uncle had spoken to him about the merits of compassion numerous times, had told him over and over again how his so-called faults were really the best parts of him. Had Uncle been right all along, and Zuko too blind to the suffering around him to listen?

Or was he only considering something so absurd because Iroh had finally succeeded in brainwashing him?

There was no frame of reference, nothing to tell him which way of thinking was _right_. He didn't know how to prove that what he was seeing was cruel and disgusting when everything he'd learned up until that point in his life said it was honorable and necessary. His heart said the Fire Nation was in the wrong, but he remembered too clearly what'd happened the last time he'd let his heart dictate his actions to trust it.

But… but the last time, in the war room, it had been his father who disagreed with him, who'd punished him for so-called insubordination. And if his father was aware of everything that was going on and still _allowed it_… why should Zuko trust his judgment on calling for the Agni Kai? He could hardly wrap his head around the idea, felt disgusting for thinking it, but what if _his father was wrong? _

He shook his head.

No. That couldn't be right. Zuko was wrong. He was weak and traitorous. His father had sent him away to _fix him_, and instead Zuko had grown worse. His problems stemmed from the fact that he was a bad son, that he wasn't good enough to be a prince of the Fire Nation. Not from of any fault of his people's.

But how could the suffering he'd seen be _right_? There wasn't _any way_ he could be mistaken about something so gut-wrenchingly tangible. And if he did only see a problem with it because of his own shortcomings, did he even _want _to change? Did he want to become the kind of person who accepted cruelty without blinking? Who acted _dishonorably _so blithely?

Zuko gritted his teeth. It was the Avatar's fault. If the stupid monk hadn't thrown him from his ship, he wouldn't have come back _different. _He would still be focused entirely on his search for the Avatar, because the worry that his father wouldn't accept him even with the boy wouldn't have affected his concentration. His senses wouldn't have improved so dramatically, so he wouldn't have heard that baby crying and he wouldn't have had reason to look at the situation in Osaka more closely. And if his fire hadn't turned different… he probably would have ignored what was happening anyway. Because having the ability to heal others was a _gift _that he simply couldn't waste.

And so he'd fallen away from everything he'd ever known to put his healing to good use, and now he had no idea what he was supposed to believe in.

_I don't even know if I should keep chasing the Avatar. If he's got the power to stop all of this… do I want to keep him from doing so? _

He shook his head. He simply _didn't know_-

"Prince Zuko? Are you okay?"

Zuko jumped, having been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't heard his uncle's footsteps. He had to take a moment to regain his bearings before he could answer, more sharply than usual to make up for his embarrassing lack of awareness. "I'm fine, Uncle."

Iroh approached him then, his movements somewhat slow and tentative. Zuko closed his eyes and leaned against the railing of the ship, listening carefully as his uncle moved closer and eventually came to a stop beside him.

"You have been getting very little sleep lately."

A shrug.

"I'll catch up now that we're traveling consistently again."

They were silent for some time.

Then: "…is something the matter?"

Zuko opened his eyes and peered at Uncle. Everything was the matter. His world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it.

He couldn't tell Uncle that though, didn't know if the older man would understand.

Instead, he found himself whispering, "In Osaka, I helped a homeless Earth Kingdom family… a family who was only homeless because Fire Nation soldiers had burnt down their home." He stepped back from the ship's railing and turned so that he was facing Uncle completely. "And they weren't the only ones."

"Zuko…"

"Don't patronize me," he snapped, instantly recognizing the careful undertones of Iroh's voice– like the older man thought he was a baby polar dog who needed coddling. "I don't want you to preach. I don't want to hear what you think of this, and I don't want any comforting words… I just _need _you to answer my questions."

"And what would those be, my nephew?" Uncle asked carefully, his expression guarded.

"Is it like that everywhere?" Zuko demanded. He narrowed his eyes. "Is this entire war being fought like that?" A hesitation, and then, more softly, _desperately_, "Does my father know?"

Iroh didn't say anything for a very long time. That was all the confirmation Zuko needed. The, "I'm sorry," that followed was hardly necessary.

Zuko nodded, then turned back to look out at the ocean.

He'd been nearly sure, but his uncle's words still hurt.

Even if he was as pathetically misled as his father seemed to think, Zuko knew in that instant that ignorance was preferable to wanting to fight for the sick, twisted thing the Fire Nation had become.

He also knew with a gut-wrenching certainty that he was by no means ready to fight _against_ them either.

_Then I'll simply have to stay out of it. _

He almost snorted at the thought.

Prince of the Fire Nation, stay out of the war?

It would be impossible.

_Unless, _he thought suddenly, good eye widening as something crazy and stupid occurred to him, _I can find a way to _not_ be the Prince of the Fire Nation. _

His plan was ridiculous. He couldn't, _shouldn't_…

Except the idea had taken root in his mind, and Zuko knew deep down that it was already too late to sway himself from that course of action. It was perfect. He would still be able to help people, but would distance himself from everything else. So maybe it would be difficult, and maybe he would have to leave his ship and his crew… and Uncle. But it was the best idea he had, the only thing he could think of that would let him continue helping those who needed it without diving headfirst into a war he no longer wanted anything to do with.

_I'd also have to give up chasing the Avatar, _he thought with an odd kind of fascination. Distracted as he'd been the past few weeks, his life had revolved around the Avatar for _three years_. It was weird, to think that he'd finally found him only to abandon his goal of capturing the kid after two tries.

But Zuko knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did bring the boy back to the Fire Nation. Not when he wasn't sure he'd be welcomed, and certainly not when he didn't know if he wanted to be welcomed… and, he supposed, not when a part of him hoped that the Avatar would end the war– that he would put a stop to the cruelty that Zuko was already so sick of.

"Nephew-"

"I'm fine, Uncle," said Zuko again. He made to leave, but his thoughts drifted back to his plan, to everything it entailed. Forcing a smile, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around his uncle's waist. He tried to say how grateful he was for _everything_, but his throat was closed and the words refused to come out.

He pulled back and met his uncle's eyes and hoped he got his point across that way.

"Oh, Zuko," whispered Uncle. "You aren't fine at all, are you?"

"Really," insisted Zuko, even though he was an awful liar and he knew it. "I am."

And then he turned and walked away.

…

Akio knew there was something wrong when he walked into the sick bay and found it _ransacked. _He frowned deeply, eyes scanning the spaces on his shelf where healing scrolls were supposed to be, the obvious gaps amidst his collection of powders and tonics. His first thought was that a stowaway had possibly done it. Zuko's ship had landed at a somewhat seedy port a short ways north of Omashu just the day before, and it wasn't too big a stretch to say someone had found their way aboard, but…

Who in their right mind would want to steal his healing junk? He considered briefly that another member of the crew would have, but again: who would care enough to bother taking anything?

That really only left one option.

A note, left on the work table, confirmed his suspicions.

_Needed the supplies. Money to replace them is in envelope. It was an honor to know you. _

It wasn't signed, but the handwriting was anally neat, and anyway, he didn't know another person on the ship who'd bother sticking the word 'honor' in a two sentence message.

For a long while, Akio stood there and stared at Zuko's writing and tried to guess what it meant.

Then something occurred to him, and he took off for Iroh's quarters. It was disrespectful to the highest degree to start banging on the old general's door like he did, but Akio was torn between panic and disbelief, and his brain wasn't working very clearly. He was vaguely aware of being slightly worried for the kid, slightly shocked that Zuko might be _gone_, but his prevailing thoughts were more focused on what the prince's supposed disappearance was going to do to Iroh.

After a moment, the Dragon of the West blearily opened the door, lips pressed into a grim line.

"General," he panted. "Zuko-"

"Ah." Iroh closed his eyes and exhaled. "He is gone. I was expecting this."

"What?" blurted Akio. He blinked. That wasn't what he'd had in mind when he predicted Iroh's reaction to the news. He remembered all too clearly the look on the old man's face when he thought Zuko had drowned in the South Pole: worry bordering on panic. Now… now he looked _accepting_. "General, Zuko _left_."

"And I am not surprised. Just the other day, we had a conversation that led me to believe this might happen soon."

"But…" Akio shook his head. "The crew have been _decent. _I've been talking him up, and people are coming around. He's even got a chance at catching the Avatar. Why would he leave now? Why not when his life was a living hell?"

Iroh sighed.

"He did not leave because of anything to do with you or the Avatar. He left because he discovered things that impacted him deeply– so deeply that he has begun to undergo a deep change of conscience. One that he cannot make while chasing the Avatar."

Deep change of conscience?

"What are you talking about?"

A frown. "I am afraid I cannot tell you at the moment. Perhaps… later. But if you will, please do an old man a favor and keep this between us. When the crew discovers my nephew's absence, allow them to speculate. Do not say he left willingly. It will make things more difficult for him."

"I won't say anything," said Akio, without even thinking about it. Both because of his respect for Iroh and some new, ridiculous loyalty towards Zuko. "But… he _left_." He couldn't stop dwelling on that fact. "Aren't you worried about him?"

"Zuko can take care of himself," said Iroh sagely. "I know this. I also know that what he is doing is necessary." Then, with concern evident in his eyes, "But yes. I am worried. While I hope this might be good for him, I also fear that his life will be difficult from this point forward. Prince Zuko has always had a rather unfortunate habit of taking on more than he is able to easily handle."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Akio tried, even though he had no idea what Zuko was getting himself into in the first place.

"I hope so." Iroh smiled sadly. "Agni, do I hope so."

The next day, it was reported that there had been a small explosion at one of the warehouses in a nearby Fire Nation controlled village; explosives that had been stored improperly in a metal building that had conducted heat a little bit too well. Everything in the place had been set off, and all but the walls of the building had burnt to ash.

Everything except for a set of armor designed specifically for Fire Nation royalty. The body, they said, had been burnt too thoroughly to recover.

Akio watched as Iroh cried at the news, just as everyone would have expected. The rest of the crew remained silent with shock. Some eyed him, wanting to see how he reacted to the death of his pupil.

He barely acknowledged them.

He was too busy thinking about what in the hell the kid could be trying to pull by faking his own death.

…

Zuko frowned as he slipped away from the village where he'd left his armor. Much as he'd hated to do so, he'd had to plant it in that warehouse to get everyone thinking he was dead. With his crew and Zhao both aware of his healing abilities, it wouldn't have been too big a stretch to say that someone could have figured out Zuko was the Blue Spirit, especially when the Spirit's emergence and Zuko's disappearance would have coincided perfectly.

And if word had gotten back to the Fire Nation that the banished prince was spending his time masquerading as a spirit and helping Earth Kingdom peasants, his father would have immediately sent every available soldier to capture him, to return him to the Fire Nation where he would probably be locked away and tortured. Or possibly publicly executed.

_I probably should be publicly executed, _he thought as he jogged. _I deserve it for even thinking about doing something like this, let alone actually trying to pull it off. _

Except the thought had lost its conviction. As he left behind the ship that had been a prison for him the last three years– and a home, he admitted reluctantly –he felt a freedom he hadn't in a long time. No more expectations, no more sneering glances in his direction… he wasn't a failure anymore, wasn't bound by what he was becoming increasingly sure was a mission created specifically to be impossible.

He could start over, could be something more than he'd been before, even if that something wasn't anything he would have ever considered before.

Of course, there were naturally worries. He thought Uncle _probably _had expected him to leave, that he could have seen it coming after their last conversation and knew he wasn't really dead– that Akio would have said something about the note he'd left on a whim if he appeared too devastated– but there was a niggling worry that maybe he hadn't read Iroh as well as he'd thought and the old man was grieving for him. Even if his uncle knew he was alive, Zuko expected there'd still be some amount of grief… the same grief Zuko felt when he thought of how he'd left behind the one person who'd consistently been there for him the last three years. He hoped they'd see each other again, but… but he wasn't sure. And the possibility that he'd left Iroh behind forever hurt him more than he liked to admit.

He was also somewhat nervous at the prospect of living by himself. No home, no connections, no friends… well the latter, he was used to, but the others admittedly frightened him. There wouldn't be a consistent supply of food; he'd have to buy what he could with the money he'd taken with him and steal after that ran out. No permanent shelter either, maybe no shelter at all. There would probably be abandoned homes and barns to sleep in, caves in some places and forest clearings in others, but the thought of taking up residence in any of those locations was grossly unappealing to him.

Nothing to be done though. He would get used to it; he had to. And after the clamber that was sure to surround his death died down, he would possibly be able to splurge for a room at an inn every once in a while. He'd cut off his phoenix tail almost as soon as he'd left the ship, as an indication that he truly was disentangling himself from the Fire Nation, and with the absence of his distinctive hairstyle, it wouldn't take much more than some Earth Kingdom clothing for him to make a believable refugee. He'd already even seen a handful of scars similar to his own; the disfigurement would hardly lead anyone to think he was a Fire Nation prince returned from the dead.

He would only be seen as another casualty of the war. Which tweaked his pride, but not so much as the notion of living in the wilderness _all _the time.

Although, admittedly, that didn't seem like such a bad idea either. He still wasn't sure what to think about what he was doing, about what the Fire Nation had done. He wanted time to step back and examine the world, and to examine himself. The solitude would be good for that. And, of course, he didn't like people in general. Crowds, social gatherings, busy streets… they all grated on him, especially now that all of the chatty gossip was twice as loud and the stink of sweat infinitely more potent. Even living on a ship had been irritating to some degree– too many people, too thin of walls, too much he could hear that he _really _didn't want to.

Getting away from that would hardly be a tragedy.

Really, the situation overall wasn't _awful_. He'd stop at the next village and get some food and more nondescript clothing for when he wasn't running around in his mask. Could even start his Blue Spirit work there. And that's what he'd keep doing; he'd travel and help people and… and stay out of the war as best he could. Just like he'd wanted.

No chasing the Avatar or dealing with ugly glares or hoping to gain the approval of a man he wasn't so certain was worth the effort.

Everything he'd ever believed in was shattering to pieces, and he was a homeless vagabond with very few possessions to his name, but even though his heart hurt… he really did feel like he was doing the right thing.

Like he _needed _this.

And that was enough for the time being.

...

…

Author's Note:

So this is late and long and has a _very _sudden ending. That's actually why I haven't posted it yet. I've considered and actually have tried rewriting the chapter several times, because even though this is how I had things happening originally, I am aware that Zuko ditches his ship right as things are starting to improve with the crew, right as he and Uncle are getting into potentially helpful bending training, and right when he's _almost _at the point of being friends with Akio.

That being said, I decided to keep it like I had it originally because I don't think it's unrealistic. In the show and most Zuko-centric fics, his belief system is slowly chipped away over time. He's willfully blind to the evils of the Fire Nation and it takes a very long time for him to let himself truly see.

Here, his belief system crumples within a matter of weeks. He can't be willfully blind because he's suddenly been made hyper-aware of all the suffering going on around him. Whereas before he was entirely focused on the Avatar, now his attention is already wavering. He's insecure because he knows that his father won't accept him as he is, his attention isn't always entirely on his mission, and he can hear and smell and even see things that he'd been able to ignore before. Now, everything is too immediate and personal for him to simply write off. But he can't accept that the Fire Nation is evil either. Everything is a jumbled mess, and Zuko recognizes that he needs to get away before he can work things out. He hasn't found himself yet, but he's aware that he's lost and he knows that won't change if he keeps chasing the Avatar. He's too overwhelmed. And so he leaves.

In any case, this story isn't about Zuko as he was in the series. He's going to be finding his own way a lot. Think 'Zuko Alone,' on a novel-length scale. Not saying that he isn't going to interact with the Gaang, and I'm certainly not saying that he isn't going to develop relationships. But his goals and motivations and way of seeing things are going to be different. Some of the friendships he makes are going to be different.

I do promise that the subplots that I seemingly ditched here are not going to disappear. I had him bond with Akio for a reason. I had his behavior towards the crew improve, even slightly, for a reason. Those things are going to reappear. But for now, Zuko has had reached conclusions he didn't come to until Book Three with very little of the character progression that allowed him to handle them. He has to worry about gaining perspective and even just surviving before that other stuff gets to be important again.

Hopefully, for anyone who read all that, my babbling makes sense. I do apologize if it doesn't, but I promise that it all has a purpose.

Thanks for reading, and I do look forward to hearing your opinions.


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